“Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our descent. Please fasten your seatbelts, and return your seats and tray tables to their upright positions to prepare for landing.”
Even as the pilot’s voice came over the intercom, my eyes instinctively went for the tiny oval window. The sky was a brilliant blue all around, but a thick blanket of clouds was spread out below us. I knew we’d have to pass through that down comforter of cloud cover before we would reach our final destination, and I prayed that the turbulence in the midst of it wouldn’t be too severe.
It was January, and my husband, three kids and I had just left the sunny summer of South Africa to move to a cold and blustery Michigan winter.
As the aircraft broke through the dense layer of clouds to the scene below, we were greeted by nothing but grey. Dismal, flat, depressing grey. The contrast from just seconds before was shocking. I looked up as best as I could from my position in the plane, and it was impossible to see any hint of the blue that shone so radiantly above the clouds.
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