I spent eight hours in a soaring box. They gave me single serving dinner and a glass of wine. The plane was mostly empty and I had four seats to myself. I stretched out, leaned my face into the upholstery and let my ears pop. This is where time stood still.
This suspended moment is full of fairy lights and wrapping paper.
It snowed in Staten Island before Christmas for the first time that I can remember. It will snow again on Sunday, and we will have snow on the ground for Christmas. My brother put on his boots and covered my window with snow balls.
As long as I think about this, Christmas, I don't need to think about London and the ever present fact that I am not there anymore. Because no matter where home is, home is more beautiful in the days preceding Christmas.
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