.The Spaces In Between
"I don't know how long I had been awake when the military chartered airline began it's decent over Shannon, Ireland.
This was my third landing in Shannon, each time coming back from the Middle East, the first time was Kuwait in 2002, the second, on my way home for leave from Iraq in October of 2005. This, as far as I knew, last time was coming home from Iraq, January 9th, 2006.
The decent seemed always the same, as if Shannon, Ireland was frozen in time and space, never changing, never moving forward or backward, a place and time between Now and Then, Here and There.
Decending the airliner would sink into grey white clouds heavy with rain, the leading edge of the wing cutting through tendrels of the condensed moisture like knife edges, the flaps and slats moving up and down like blind hands. Cloud tops slipping away like half remembered thoughts. On into the cloud, patches of dark and light whipping by, the wing tip light winking in the distance, beads of water chasing themselves across the thick window.
Below the cloud layer, were green fields and srone houses linked by rain slicked roads. For me Ireland las like returning to Life after the bleak, drab colors of the Middle East."
This is Your War II
One of the greatest milbloggers of all times. Not really sure why this post popped up, or even what its about..but here it is.
This was my third landing in Shannon, each time coming back from the Middle East, the first time was Kuwait in 2002, the second, on my way home for leave from Iraq in October of 2005. This, as far as I knew, last time was coming home from Iraq, January 9th, 2006.
The decent seemed always the same, as if Shannon, Ireland was frozen in time and space, never changing, never moving forward or backward, a place and time between Now and Then, Here and There.
Decending the airliner would sink into grey white clouds heavy with rain, the leading edge of the wing cutting through tendrels of the condensed moisture like knife edges, the flaps and slats moving up and down like blind hands. Cloud tops slipping away like half remembered thoughts. On into the cloud, patches of dark and light whipping by, the wing tip light winking in the distance, beads of water chasing themselves across the thick window.
Below the cloud layer, were green fields and srone houses linked by rain slicked roads. For me Ireland las like returning to Life after the bleak, drab colors of the Middle East."
This is Your War II
One of the greatest milbloggers of all times. Not really sure why this post popped up, or even what its about..but here it is.
posted by madtom at 2:31 PM
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