Layers of time, layers of memories while in the midst of layering more. A strange, strange concept, the one of time is it not? A swirl, a mist, a meteor speeding at an ever increasing pace. Babies grow up in a week and you don’t realize it until they drive up in a car, get married and have their own babies. People age, they die, they move in and out of your life. And there you are, watching, while it sweeps by and one day, whether you care to admit it or not, you realize that you haven’t been a passive bystander at all, but a player like everyone and everything else. There’s no escaping it. And unbidden, the questions creep in. The ones all the other saps have always trilled. Who am I? What matters? What am I doing with my life? When I’m gone, will my having existed matter? And no matter how hard you try to juggle the balls that have always seemed so significant; keeping the bills paid, the toilet scrubbed, the appearance of being an acceptable human to your friends, neighbors, kids, and dog, the questions will become louder, more insistent and sometimes even wake you up. When I flew an airplane across the continent last summer something happened to those voices. While I was in the midst of living moment to moment, trusting in myself but never certain of the outcome and knowing that there were too many variables to control, I found myself letting go of fear. I could have gone stark raving cotton mouthed mad had I pondered the fact that all that was between me and massive jagged peaks were a few thousand feet and a wood and fabric machine I magically rode in. I mean really! I was riding in a box kite with no visible means of support, yet I flew. And I didn’t go mad. On the contrary, I became very sane and very happy in the moment. Every cloud, every scent, every thrum from the faithful radial engine fed my peace and contentment. I was connected to others in a way I had never before experienced. Everyone seemed to be a part of me and I a part of them. Chrissy’s dimpled smile flashing back at me from the front seat while her hair whipped around her face, Jerry’s gentle hugs and tender concern for our well being, the people on the ground in the small towns we alighted in, seemingly long lost members of a family I barely remembered yet so glad to see us again and I them. I wasn’t haunted by questions about my existence because I knew the answers. I was me, uniquely me but never alone. What mattered was the experience of love in every form. I was doing exactly what I wanted to be doing in each moment and I will never be gone because love never dies.