Flint & Steel| Writing prompt
What Are Your Thoughts as You Sit Waiting to Board a Plane?
Here is what it’s like for me living being between two worlds
The above picture is the actual plane I walked away from in 2011. I am a blessed soul in so many ways! (The story to come someday — mama has lived through some things).
When “you” sit at the airport, what are your thoughts?
Here are some of the thoughts chasing each other in my mind.
Before my plane overshot the runway and broke in 2011, I was a happy flier.
In fact, flying thrilled me!
I had my first plane ride as a teen and fell in love — I felt closer to heaven, the speed, weightlessness, and the anticipation of distant shores — magnetic!
My love affair with flying was about to change…
At the time I lived in New York, I was a frequent visitor to Texas. My family lived there.
Visiting as often as 10 to 15 times one year — I was a busy and independent girl.
I would get on a plane sometimes after work, book in hand, and love in my heart.
The take-off speed is still the best ride for me (I do love speed!).
Then that all changed in 2011 when my plane broke in two.
Since that time, my airport mood is influenced by where my final destination is.
Though I refuse to be defined by any experience.
I believe I MUST work through the pain.
I keep flying because there is too much of this earth to see. Fear will not define my life choices.
Generally, when I am flying to Guyana, it is both joy and trepidation that inhabits my soul.
Joy — I am going home, the sights, the foods, the place, the air, the people.
Trepidation — It is the site of the plane crash, so the closer we get to touchdown, the tenser I become.
By the time we touch down, I am giving myself and my kids some intensive pep talks. They were also in the crash.
When I leave America to return to the place of my birth, I am beyond excited.
As I await departure, I scan the faces hoping I know someone. Sometimes I do. But the thoughts are generally of excitement and impatience, and I cannot wait to get there.
I know it will be so much fun. I hang out with the relatives and the people I grew up with.
My voice will ring loudly with comical laughter as they ply me with all the happenings since I last visited.
Then all too quickly, the day dawns when I must leave to return to America.
I love America, but I generally begin to feel the impending sadness as the last week quickly passes.
The sunrise and sunsets take on a special beauty.
The sound of the animals, the birds, the bats, the crickets chirping, and even the cocks crowing send me into melancholy.
Finally, we are packed.
I try to bring as much back as I can.
We trek to the airport, usually, a large van, seating about 12–15. The joy is palpable as we have our final laughs on the way there.
Each turn of the wheel makes me want to implore, “take me back, I'm not ready to return” but the words don’t come.
During simpler times, they could venture in beyond security as we wait for take-off, but since the terrorist attack, we have to say our goodbyes at the curb.
I wait at the back of the line for as long as I dare until finally the last announcements are called and I must separate from that which I have always known.
The place and people are forever in my heart.
I catch a final glimpse as I pass beyond the metal detectors, disrobing as I go.
My heart is heavy with sadness, for I am always acutely aware of the fragility of life and that tomorrow is never promised to any of us.
Finally, they are out of my view as I am done with the process and seat myself at the farthest corner to await departure.
I am awash with sadness.
I watch the expanse of the tarmac as planes come and go, wishing my journey was just beginning instead of already ending.
I wish we were not separated by space, though I am acutely aware of the blessings God has afforded me.
I have been given much and I take my responsibilities seriously to the ones I am leaving behind and for those in front of me.
I continuously bless my family because I am blessed, but often wish people never needed to go to other places to realize their dreams.
If I do not return to America to work, I cannot continue to bless them back there.
A double-edged sword.
The time for boarding comes and I step purposefully towards my other life.
My children, home, siblings, other family members, responsibilities, and other life await me there.
Somehow, I have become the “mother” to many and I brush off that which I leave behind to step into the role the universe has given me.
On my five-hour flight back to the new world, I become reconciled with what lies ahead.
Yesterday was a brief respite, already a fond memory.
It is a dream of things past; I willfully look towards the things to come.
I am ok and I fix my eyes upon the mark.
For tomorrow will bring another day, another visit home.
Another day will find me waiting in between worlds at the airport lounge…
Written in response to Ellie Jacobson ✍🏻 prompt — see below…
Pene Hodge is a mom, a nurse, a writer. She writes because she must. She loves people and is committed to sharing and gleaning knowledge for the betterment of all.