Of Airplanes and Possibilities

We dropped my brother off at the airport today, leaving him to go through security and board his plane to Dublin.

Surprisingly, I didn't cry or feel like crying, or any sad stuff like that. Not because my brother is leaving- he'll be back in 28 days, but because of all the memories this airport held. Because the first and last time I'd been on a plane was this airport, with my best friend (at the time), heading to the Dominican Republic for a week.

The memories of trying to stay up till our three AM bus ride to the airport, but crashing at midnight (or was it one?); the sitting in the waiting area, looking out onto the dark faces of airplanes, thinking they looked like dark hawks (which, no matter how much I explained it, my friend and her family just didn't get it); feeling a wave of homesickness while I still hadn't left Canadian soil; sitting on the plane almost hyperventilating; the mantra I repeated in my head, inspired by the conversation we'd had on the bus with another couple; laying down half on my seat, half on the makeshift blanket-pillow settled on my friend's lap, listening to a repeat playlist on my ipod and drifting off once in a while; pointing out whales and ships as we came close to our destination.

They didn't hurt as much as I thought they would. Or that I realize they "should" now that I've time to reflect. I mean, I could have had them hurt me, I could have scrunched up my face and felt the tears. I could have, but I didn't let that happen. By the time I got to the point of realizing "Hey, that should have hurt!" we were on our way home, and I could see a plane taking off, and another taking it's place. And I remembered the check-out-line wait the whole taking off bit was like, an dhow surprised I was at it. You don't just go fly? I have to wait in anticipation and get freaked out enough to jump out the door, and be able to?

The only feeling I had while in there was one of longing. Longing to, in a place that could take me almost anywhere, to buy a plane ticket and go anywhere. Rome, perhaps. Or London.

Longing. That's what I felt. Not for the past, but for adventure. For the unknown.

It still sits with me. All those possibilities.


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