My bags will soon be packed and I'll soon be standing in a terminal. I'll soon be punching numbers into a metal kiosk, hoping that I will get a boarding pass like the website promised me. I'll soon be pressed against the tiny plastic window, perhaps fogging it up a bit in anticipation. The stewardess will come by and ask me if I want to spend $5 USD on a bagel with processed cheese and I will tell her I'm fine.
Soon, the wings will thaw out a little and the wisps of clouds that catch on the edges will sparkle and evaporate into invisibility. Grinding sounds will let me know that the landing gear is down, that the landing gear is producing drag, reducing lift, pulling me and the plane and all the passengers down. Soon those same wheels will screech and disintegrate on the pavement. My only bag will be in the bin above my head and soon I will grab it, slip the strap over my shoulder and brush past the guy triple-checking his seat for a pen.
Soon I will pass through my gate and see you there, mouth pulled into the biggest smile I've ever seen, eyes beautiful and slightly squinted, just like I remember. And just like I dreamed, you'll leap for me with arms wide.
Soon, the wings will thaw out a little and the wisps of clouds that catch on the edges will sparkle and evaporate into invisibility. Grinding sounds will let me know that the landing gear is down, that the landing gear is producing drag, reducing lift, pulling me and the plane and all the passengers down. Soon those same wheels will screech and disintegrate on the pavement. My only bag will be in the bin above my head and soon I will grab it, slip the strap over my shoulder and brush past the guy triple-checking his seat for a pen.
Soon I will pass through my gate and see you there, mouth pulled into the biggest smile I've ever seen, eyes beautiful and slightly squinted, just like I remember. And just like I dreamed, you'll leap for me with arms wide.