Chasing Daylight

   We’re  late.  Our flight is late.  Through a myriad of missteps and a comedy of errors, we’re now finally getting off the ground.  Of course, by this time we should have been comfortably on our way.  We should have been off the ground before twilight.

   And now the pilot has put the throttle down and we’re racing westward, onward to our destination.  The sun teases on the horizon as we race the coming shadow, chasing daylight.  There’s little one can do when blocked by competing traffic on the tarmac after an errant plane blocked departure from the gate.

   Damned double-parked DC 10!

For now, we’re behind schedule.  For now, we’re just making up for lost time, chasing the sun; chasing the last colors and hues of the day.  Like the drowning man reaching for a floating bit of foam, we’re just chasing daylight.

   And as the darkness settles in, Mac Arthur’s words ring and my ears, “Old soldiers don’t die, they just fade away.”