Flying over Newfoundland

On the way out, I flew over Labrador, with Newfoundland gleaming silver across the Straits of Belle Isle.

On the way back, I flew over Newfoundland at night. It was tucked up and invisible, sleeping under a quilt of puffy cloud. Once, I made out lights twinkling below - Cornerbrook? - then gone. Newfoundland seems to do that - appear and disappear into the fog and cloud. I bade farewell through the tiny aircraft window, flexing the inner pane as I pressed against it, trying to see through the blanketing cloud, as we exited over Twillingate and flew out into the darkness, over the Atlantic Ocean.