Paper Plane

I want to right my wrongs.  I want to fix things.  I broke them and now I’m trying to put the pieces back.

The plane ride is smooth.  The flight feels effort less.  Like the metal body of the plane is weightless. We weren’t traveling in a machine, using power to get from point A to B, we were being carried by the air.  I couldn’t help but picture those paper airplanes you make as a child.  A white paper plane wafting through the air on a sunny summer afternoon.

I go over everything I want to say.  Every apology I need to make.  Some I already wrote in the message I sent you, but there’s more, so much more to be said.

The airport is busy.  The plane empties and its temporary inhabitants clamor to grab their suitcases from the baggage return.  Families, reunited, hug and laugh. People are greeting each other, and group by group leaving together.  I sit down.  There is no one here I recognize.  But I’m sure that there will be soon.  I’m sure you’ll come.  So I wait.


So, what do you think?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s