Love Yourself Like Your Life Depends On It

Change

"It's happening,"

"Yes."

"Really happening."

I nod slowly, grin.

"Unbelievable," she says. "Unbelievable."

Through the window, the Sierras below, mountains of earthy brown. Daybreak ahead. A clear morning. This high up, no human could survive, yet we hurtle forward at hundreds of knots in an aluminum tube, comfy in our chairs, sipping our sodas.

"Are you sca-" She rests her hand gently on my arm. "Nervous?"

I look out for a moment, the land below already flattening, then to her. "Nope."

"I don't know how you can do that. Me, I'm a bucket of nerves."

"But this is magic," I say. "Why be nervous, that's not doing any good."

"I know that," she says. "I do, really. But tell that to my nerves."

"I think," I say, "I think that I'm starting to accept the magic, that life can be this way, that fantastic experiences, things I couldn't imagine within my reach are possible, are happening, will happen. That's what it is."

She smiles, squeezes my arm, then leans into my shoulder. She closes her eyes. I reach down and kiss her head softly, smelling her hair, then return to the window.

Patchwork of browns and greens below. How fast the land's changed. How fast everything changes.