40,000 feet up, three hours into a 9:30 flight home. We are somewhere over central Greenland, getting ready to head across Baffin Bay into Canada.
I already miss the small, potent Italian coffee and the easy drinking red wines. I miss climbing in the Austrian Alps and the cold Weissbiers with pork. I miss having nothing to do but decide whether to explore this way or walk that way, just to see what is there. I miss sitting in the café, or just this morning in the window seat watching the planes come in; sweating up stairs in a village where every damn step is uphill, then being just a little too cold in the Austrian night breeze.
All too soon we will return to the land of responsibility, work and bills.
But, and this is the thing to hand on to;
But we can remember those things, and start to dream of next year.