Airplanes

 A flight attendant friend once told me the most critical times during a flight are the initial and final 1,000 feet during takeoff and landing. I'd say with the utmost certainty that we've just pulled our wheels up and are within that critical 1,000 feet.

We are no strangers to the sights or sounds of airplanes in Brasilia or on our conjunto. The combination of the endlessly wide Brasilia sky and our home's proximity to the wet (and dry) season's flight paths make them a fixture in our everyday life.

When we first arrived they constantly reminded me of how we'd arrived, those first moments, the sights, sounds and smells and how far away the time was that we'd leave. They fly over on a schedule, with tired pilots, bored flight attendants and empty bags of pretzels littering the dirty floors. They’re filled with families and businessmen, but to me they have always been a symbol, a reminder of the constant tug of war that accompanies our wanderlust lifestyle.

They often look so graceful, and fly so effortlessly, but I wonder how they stay aloft, when I know they’re so heavy…until I hear them groan as they draw closer to 1,000 feet (right over our roof.) I can both see and hear them propel themselves forward smoothly through the air, yet all at once heave them selves carefully to the ground. The wings longing to stay in the air, weightless, while the bodies and hearts inside ache for the ground.

As I sit here writing this, I've pulled over in a wet parking lot after a light rain that just threatened my very last family portrait session. A low flying plane has churned words in my stomach that have nowhere else to go but out. I find myself stealing away moments, like a puffs of a secret cigarette, to try to explain to myself, away from the chaos, what I'm feeling and to remind myself why. 

I feel most inspired after a session, anywhere, but particularly here, where I redesigned my definition of success. Where I learned it most certainly isn't a number, or an amount...unless the amount relates to happiness. It looks more like a happy family, quality time spent with my family and my friends, not quality time spent in an office....but not without meetings: at the pool, at the playground, over Cheerios and Frappe Nutella Cafes. But still I hear myself groan when I know the time has come again and I've only just gotten comfortable.

We’ve just sold our first car, as Paul mentioned and soon our second….and we take Paul to work again, like we did in our first days here. We’ve begun to lighten our household effects by selling things we’ve outgrown and as our home begins to feel more sparse as we draw nearer to pack-out day, I feel both weightless and very very heavy.

In our final 1,000 feet (60 days today) I feel the ache. 

Listen closely and the groans you'll hear from Casa Hanna are not just from the airplanes above. Our hearts long to be at home with our families, but our lust for this lifestyle, “Our Brazil”, travel, discovery and the work Paul does at the mission and we do in our everyday lives begs to stay here.