So I’m sitting here in my little house, going through some old papers and posting a few nifty little things I’ve found, and what do I suddenly notice? The roar of airplanes overhead.
My house is situated between Lake Ontario and Pearson International Airport, directly underneath the flight path to one of the alternate runways. I don’t normally get a lot of air traffic overhead, but depending on the weather conditions they will switch things around.
For some reason— on the eve of the anniversary of September 11th— I’m suddenly very nervous about hearing the planes overhead. My practical brain tells me there’s nothing to fear. Yet my emotional brain— helped by all the resurgence of television coverage of the attacks on the WTC— can’t help but make me aware of them.
Maybe I need to get a beer and go sit on my front porch for a while?
