Excitement
stirs my blood
as I pass through
the boarding tunnel.
I've often wondered
how it feels to fly.
Discovery draws near.
Entering the plane,
I hand my ticket
to the first attendant
that greets me.
She smiles and says,
in her soft Russian accent,
"This way, please."
She stops, turns,
and rests her hand
on the top of my seat:
left side aisle.
I thank her
and settle into my place,
setting my small pack
in my lap.
"Hi," I say.
The woman in the window seat
turns and gives her best attempt
at a smile,
"Hello."
I am faced
with short, red curls
as she turns to continue
her long gaze out the window.
For lack of other conversation,
I scan the crowded seats
and observe.
The plane is wide;
a section of seats in the middle
is flanked by two rows
along each side.
It looks rather old,
probably made
back in the 70's.
It might be
as old as I am.
I'm not worried, though,
I know the Lord
is with me.
Since I first had this idea,
I've felt a certain peace,
knowing that there is some
greater purpose
to this trip
than just a vacation,
and knowing that
nothing will prevent me
from reaching
that promised land.
My daydream is broken by
a very loud, very drunk
young Irishman
who talks to his neighbor
about horses
between sips of beer.
A few seats ahead,
a bald man
in the center section
lifts his paper
to muffle
his loud, rattling cough.
Two unseen women
compare flight horror stories
behind me
in a bragging tone.
I watch the attendants
usher people
until I am interrupted
by the red-haired lady
as she gets up and moves
to the back of the plane.
-------
She still hasn't returned
when we begin
take-off preparations,
so I secure my pack
in the now-vacant seat
beside me.
After the formality
of the emergency demonstration,
we begin to climb
into the night sky.
The pressure squeezes
inside my ears
as my sinuses slowly adjust.
My heart rises
with the plane's ascent,
leaping and soaring,
filling with hope.
I look out the window
and watch the night-time
cityscape of Miami
grow smaller and smaller.
It stretches wide and far.
There are a million
solitary lights
illuminating the darkness.
They look like the stars,
though closer together.
Each one of those lights
is a childhood wish;
a wish whispered
on a birthday candle,
a penny in a fountain,
or a broken wishbone.
I've left all those wishes
behind now.
For the first time,
one of them
is about to come true.
I watch those lights
slowly fade away,
until the only one
left to see
is the one on the wing
of this fairy tale ride,
on its way to
never-neverland.