Saturday, September 26, 2009

Maybe the saddest day of her life

I am getting really good at sitting in airports, waiting. I'm also
gettin really good at doing this by myself.

This girl, 8-12 years old, a few aisles away is not. She has a dad,
uncle, man, whatever with her.

I'm typing this on my phone listening to a song that reminds me of my
bus trip that was supposed to get me to Chicago, but just got me to

She is wearing ears from Disneyland.

I keep thinking of all the airports. I keep thinking of all the
people, the ones I knew and the ones I didn't, that I flew with. I
keep thinking of all the things I was flying to, and all the things I
was flying from. I keep thinking about how I got dropped off at the
airport by someone new, again. I keep thinking about how long this
stuff can go on, and I'm probably comfortable with forever, most days
at least.

I don't know what she is thinking about. But for the last fifteen
minutes she's been silently crying. I think I'm the only one who

I want to tell her it's fine, it'll be ok. The turbulence will be the
best part. She'll land home and her friends will be glad to see her.
And her pet will run to say hello. And someone will have made her
something special to eat. And she'll always be able to go home, there
will always be some place full of these wonderful memories with it's
arms outstretched, waiting for her. I want to tell her to stop crying,
not because I'm callous, even if I am, but because it's going to be
ok, it's all going to be fine.

She'll never be sitting alone in an airport, trying to figure out if
she's coming or going. Listening to the same song on repeat to try and
get some feeling back she had for a while. Trying to keep her hands
from shaking from the booze or whatever. Thinking about where she
thought she'd be when everyone started turning 27. Worrying about
never figuring out any of this stuff. Hoping the best for her friends
that make horrible deciscions, but seeing they are better than her
own. She'll be better than that.

She just took off her ears, more tears streaming then ever before, and
walked away.

Maybe we have more in common then I thought.

I'm keeping my fingers crossed for turbulence.

I haven't felt alive in a few hours.

I'll see in Seattle.