From a plane window, I saw the aerial view of my hometown
The old armory and the new pharmacy, the road that makes a long, lazy S around the grocery store and west to the fire station.
I grew up a few blocks east in a house on top of a hill. Enough of a hill to leave you short of breath and heart pounding.
From the plane window a few thousand feet away, I looked for the hill. But there were no hills east of the fire station. Just roads flat as paper.
Which was when I realized that from this perspective, the hill wasn’t much of a hill at all.
And later, when I told my father about it, we agreed that it wasn’t a bad thing to keep in the mind. The spirit, too.
That if we give ourselves the view from a few thousand feet away, it can render a hill flat as paper.