The Beach at Sainte Adresse by Claude Monet
We waited on the tarmac in the mid-morning rain. Droplets beaded up and slid down the thick window panes. Outside, men in slickers stowed the last of the baggage into the belly of the plane. As they drove away I watched the air brakes and aileron panels move along the surface of the wing.
Soon we were racing down the runway, picking up speed as the jet engines screamed in our ears. Raindrops morphed into tiny rivulets, streaking back horizontally across the glass. We lifted off and climbed into a thick bolt of white cotton. more»
Brian T. Maurer has practiced pediatrics as a Physician Assistant for thirty years. His "Marginal Notes" column appears periodically in the Cell2Soul Blog. The title "Marginal Notes" is taken from a quote by Henry David Thoreau: "I love a broad margin to my life."
