There’s nothing subtle about the flight from Dallas to Houston. I sat with my book folded in two across my lap and thankful for the exhausted business man too tired to make conversation. The plane rose from 500 ft. to 10,000 ft. in a span of three minutes. It’s that feeling you get when climbing the crest of a roller coaster waiting, anticipating the decent, and suddenly you’re VERTICAL in the sky. The plane enters the county I know and explore. Another city. I’m alone. The span of the city spread comes into clear view reminiscent of a Lite Brite toy. Rows and endless rows of city streets, highways, shopping centers, homes, and automobiles flickering against the dark sky. I turn my head looking back towards the sunset reminded of the evening my brother in law proposed to my sister in Las Colinas. So young and so ideal they were. They are still, so real. Always striving and never wanting to stand still or move backwards.

That’s how it is my friends.

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Hopefully you heard the Mayor of New Orleans comments on MLK Day. I give you this.