Imbalance — A Short Story

Finding balance in an imbalanced world…

The engine’s scream shifted my attention to the window. Turbulence knocked everyone around, and a man lost his balance on the way back to his seat, stumbling into others. The night sky hindered visibility, yet I persisted in searching the darkness. Lights from the wing flickered every so often, illuminating a bit of the surrounding area. In those moments, I noticed the clouds we traveled through.

It explained the turbulence, at least I thought.

The seatbelt sign dinged on. Per the usual routine during these situations, I thought nothing of it. Buckling myself in, I returned my attention to the outside. It was short-lived when the oxygen masks dropped from the ceiling. People screamed in realization, frantically reaching for the masks and affixing them.

Nausea hit my stomach as butterflies fluttered around, producing havoc on my insides. All my nerves lit up like a Christmas tree, flowing electric bolts throughout my body. Muscles tightened in some desperate hope that it’ll be enough to protect me. But whatever my brain did to prepare, I knew it wouldn’t be enough.

In a matter of moments, my life would be over. It felt unsettling how quickly I accepted that fact. Perhaps I didn’t give myself enough time to understand the meaning.

I was going to die.

I sat there buckled down to my chair, holding onto the seat in front of me, and listening to the chaos that ensued around me. Memories flooded my mind, a mix of both good and bad events in my life.

Memories of my career and all the benefits it brought me. But most importantly, memories of my family, of my wife and daughter. Safe and sound at home, they anticipated my arrival in about three hours. My wife would make dinner soon. She said she’d make my favorite tonight, chili hot dogs. That always brought a smile to my face and my stomach rumbling.

But not today.

My appetite was lost in some forgotten realm, unsure if it would ever come back. I feared I may have never truly valued my wife and all her contributions. The dinners, the cleaning, and taking care of my daughter when I wasn’t there. On top of her own work. I never considered how she did it until now. Like she found the perfect balance between the two.

Or maybe it was imbalanced, and she needed my help.

My daughter. How I wished to see her again. At least one more time. Before the inevitable. Those wonderful little pictures that she would draw for me. I hung in my office, but sadly never looked at. Her beautiful, cheery smile could light up any room. She got that from her mother. So creative in everything she did. And so smart. Yet, I wasn’t there for her. Always packing to go on my next trip.

Work kept me away from home for most of the time. While I might’ve gained new opportunities, I lost others at home. Career ruled my life and left the family part out of the equation. I never realized the imbalance until now.

Now the time came. I looked around at everyone else, all terrified and crying. Everyone holding onto the seats in front of them as they breathed into the oxygen masks that dangled above. I’ve had a desire to skydive at least once in my life, just to see what it’s all about. This wasn’t exactly how I envisioned it.

My thoughts lingered on my family for the final moment. Most of it became remorse. I did everything for them, but in the process, I excluded them from my life. My daughter, all the school plays I missed. Stories left unshared with me. My wife, all the time we used to spend together, slowly diminished as my work took more of my time. All those times she wanted to say something to me, but held her breath. I never listened, even when she did. I just believed I was right.

All those memories we never made.

Unexpectedly jerked forward, smacking my head on the seat in front of me, I heard the shriek of metal bending and scraping on the ground. Screams of people around me echoed, but I disregarded them as I watched the ground slide under us at ridiculous speeds. My muscles remained tense, my mind whirling in circles. Then everything stopped.

And I woke up sometime later, though I couldn’t be sure how long. Blurry vision greeted me, but settled. The first face I saw was my wife’s. She smiled down at me, caressing my face and pulling strands of hair away from my eyes. I smiled back up at her.

My daughter came in a few minutes later. She looked saddened, but pleased to see me awake. She drew me a picture. Our family on a beach. A vacation we were supposed to take, but my work took precedence.

As the days went by, I remained at the hospital, recovering. I stared at that picture she drew every day. Later on, she sent more, and I looked at them all. Some of the family. Some of her dreams. But one stuck with me the most. The picture of the park near our house. Specifically, the teeter-totter she had her and I sit on. Looking at that one caused tears to streak down my face.

I discovered later that most survived the crash. It didn’t come without scars, though. Despite the initial difficulties, I found solace in the balance provided by crutches.

At least physically.

I quit my job soon after leaving the hospital, finding something that didn’t require me to be away from my family. The opportunities I once had no longer excited me. My family did that instead. It took me nearly dying to understand this, but I gained something I didn’t have before. Balance.

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this short story, consider checking out some of my other work here. Also, connect with me on Threads! I enjoy engaging with other writers.

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