only bringing what to carry on so that you know i won't be long

I had always hated airports. The smells and sights, too much luggage, the assistants. People either walked too slowly or rushed, creating unnecessary panic. Leaving, crying, that sick feeling every time upon realising that if something went wrong I would be powerless.

But this time I was excited to go to a city I had never liked much. All through school and -university I had driven myself to departures, been picked up by men whose names I never quite caught. I walked myself out and I always packed too much.

But this time I had butterflies in my stomach as I counted down 36 hours. I could see you, leaning casually on the rail that separated us for one last moment. I would beam and kiss you shamelessly in front of everyone, after which I would casually say that it's good to see you.

Turbulence from start to end. The food smelt awful and the coffee is never strong enough. But I was flying, I was high as a red kite and I allowed myself to fall. I knew you would kiss my grazed palms and -knees better. I opened my arms, no longer resisting my own terminal velocity as I embraced powerlessness.

I will let you know what it was really like.