I live at a cross road. Morning skies are always interesting. Count ‘em. Too numerous to count. I’m in the middle of tbings, but not really. I liken it to living on a golf course and not playing a single round. I’m ok with it. I don’t mind not having to battle TSA and crowded planes and baggage claim and… Sure, I’ll fly again. Meanwhile, I enjoy the myriad of jet trails that cross my skies. Of course, as a kid (8 or so) I used to run from under planes passing overhead with the belief that I did not want to be there if someone overhead flushed the toilet.