Dearest Danda - London to St. Thomas - a hop, skip and a jump thanks to engineers who have created the great metal birds of the sky that fly us hither, thither and yon. As I looked out the window, almost blinded by the sun, I ruminated on how I was just hanging there in an endless unknown of space, blue and bluer at the end of my vision, elusive in color just off the wingtip of my mode of transportation. I know about "lift" and "thrust" and a hundred formulas and laws that keep a plane in the air, but I don't understand them and never will. I prefer "free flight" - that fanciful illusion of just hanging there in space as the world whirls below me. "Slipping the surly bonds of earth" is surely a fantastic, almost unbeatable happening. Get through these next rounds of chemo, which is your earthly tether, and then grab a plane for Spain, where sunshine and a garden and your old room beckons. James and you can loll by the pool, and Mum can bring you iced, green tea with lemons floating, for color, in the glass. But while you are on the plane, marvel at "free flight". Keep the image in your mind over the next weeks. Hang in there. LSC
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