This was Sunday's sunrise over the Dixfield hills. Next Sunday, we will be flying through the sunrise over the Andes as we prepare to land in Santiago.
Brother has bought plane tickets for our parents and for C and me so that we can celebrate his wedding and new life in a small village in central Chile.
When Brother and I were young, there was a map of the world pinned up on the wall by our kitchen table. He and I sat on opposite sides of the table and against the wall. His seat was by South America and mine was near Africa. I wonder if all those childhood years of comfort food coupled with the appealing visual of that 2700 mile tendril of a country contributed to him finding happiness in Chile?
My traveling companions are all seasoned international travelers, I am not. My last foray from North America was an April, 1986 trip to England during which the United States launched an air raid against Libya. That was the beginning of the days of scary air travel. There was a concern about our plane on the return trip and the passengers were taken off for 3 hours as the plane was searched. Our luggage was put on the tarmac and we had to go out and identify each piece. It was a quiet and tense flight. The passengers all applauded when we landed safely in Atlanta.
But that was then.
Brother has arranged for our seats on the plane to be on the side that will show the sun rising over the Andes. We will see Aconcagua. At 22,841 feet Aconcagua is the highest mountain outside of the Himalayas. Have I ever said how much I love mountains?
We will see places that I can barely imagine, places that are now home to the only other person who shares my parents.