Last night I returned to New York from a short trip to the South. Coming to LaGuardia airport from the south seems to have two potential flight paths, both of which I'm familiar with from the ground. (I'm strangely aware of airplanes, which are one of my obsessions). One path comes over Sandy Hook, NJ and then across Brooklyn, directly over the botanical gardens. On my previous trip I flew this way. But last night, we took the other path which is a little west, in line with the Hudson River which goes over Staten Island. Flying over my hometown like this at sunset was almost a religious experience. Actually, I wondered to myself whether this was a sign I was going to die shortly in a plane crash because of the complete catalog of remembrances shown to me from above, all in a matter of minutes. Place after place, association after association. Halloweens, adventures, car rides, summer nights, sledding, kisses in the park, it was all there.
It should be mentioned that every time I get on an airplane I wonder whether it's going to crash but that's not material to this.
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