Flying Across Borders

As the plane is going down, you hold onto the arm rests of your seat thinking that this is only supposed to happen in the movies. You realize that you and the stranger sitting next to you are touching, both trying to get a good grip of that tiny arm rest that separates the two of you. Minutes earlier, you were very careful to keep your hands in your lap, your head turned away from the man in the next seat. You felt annoyed at the fact that he was less careful, slouching and making himself comfortable. Now, your legs are no longer crossed but spread wide, feet flat on the floor. You wonder if that flimsy seatbelt pressed so tightly against your stomach will really keep you safe. With your luck the seatbelt will work just fine, your seat however, will detach and be thrown around the plane, your body securely buckled. You roll your eyes and try not to think your usual pessimistic thoughts. "Think positive" you tell yourself, cringing at the thought of the number of times you have been told that by people who didn't care to take the time to listen to one of the many struggles you've had in life. The plane jerks and your thought is interrupted by the realization that your life is in the hands of the two men up front in control of this sucker.

For the first time, you turn and look at the face of the man whose arm you are now very familiar with. His eyes do not meet yours. Instead, his head is bowed down, his eyes fixated on the little gold cross that hangs from his neck and rests upon his chest. You never noticed it before. He whispers a prayer to God, his voice cracking with every bounce of turbulence. You make out a few words though, "wife, daughters, protection, and love." You suddenly feel saddened and contemplate your own prayer. You don't feel worthy however. You were never very religious and you don't think that God will even bother with you now. It's too late to make any bargains.

Again, the plane makes a sudden drop. A yellow mask and clear bag drop from the ceiling with it, hitting you in the face. You wonder if you should let go of the tight grip you have on the arm rest to grab for it, but you decide not to. You become distracted by the yelling and crying of other passengers. Looking around you see people of all colors and races, young and old, of every shape and size. Boarding the plane, you didn't see the same people. Earlier, you saw a black man talking on his cell phone while trying to stuff his bag in the compartment over the heads of a single mother with a baby and an obnoxiously loud 5 year old. You thought of how rude people have become. Now, you see them differently. The man has his eyes tightly shut, his head pressed firmly against the headrest. The mother holds her baby securely with one arm, and rubs her other child's head that is buried in her lap.

In those moments of looking around the plane, you realize that you are all just people. You look down at the outfit you bought the day before for $200. You think to yourself how stupid it was to spend hours at the mall and $200 of credit just to make yourself feel better than everyone else. You realize that in this moment, clothes don't matter. Nobody is noticing what you are wearing or what color your hair is. When you look around, you don't notice everyone's clothes, skin color, or age. You simply see humans being vulnerable, spilling emotions freely that we were taught to never let show in public. You are suddenly aware that this is what life is about. No one here cares about whether or not you finished college in 4 years or 5. No one here cares about whether you weigh 124 pounds or 130. No one here cares about the blemish on your cheek that you tried so hard to cover up. No one here cares about how much money you made last year. You feel silly for worrying yourself sick about these things in the past, and you think of your family. You know that right now they are at home in bed asleep, unaware of your situation. You regret not telling them that you were traveling today. You regret the fights you had with your mother, the mean things you said about your sister. You don't care that your life wasn't perfect in every way. Right now in this moment you remember only the good times, and you realize that they far outweigh the bad. You love them and you would do anything to be safe on the ground with them right now.

You again contemplate bargaining with God. You figure, at this point, it couldn't hurt. Tipping back your head and closing your eyes, you begin to have a one way conversation with a being that you aren't sure exists. You apologize for the suicidal thoughts that you have been having lately. You promise to do better if you survive this ride. You promise to repair the broken relationships in your life. You promise to stop being so damn selfish. You stop fighting the tears that are now freely rolling down your face. The stranger next to you grabs your hand and whispers "It's okay."

You don't remember how you got here, but you carefully hold onto the railing and put one shaky foot in front of the other and step down. As soon as both feet hit the pavement, you crouch down and bury your head in your lap. You thank God. You feel a tap on the shoulder and when you peer up through watery eyes you see an outstretched hand, offering to help you up. You take the hand and while you are being pulled up, before you can wipe your eyes to see the face of the person it belongs to, you recognize the touch. The man says, "I'm Lewis." You say, "Lily." He replies with a small smile, "It's nice to meet you." The two of you walk into the airport together. Still trembling, you use his stable arm to hold you up. Before you realize what is happening, Lewis is rushed by three beautiful women, all crying. You see that they are his wife and two young daughters, and slip away quietly while they hug and kiss.

Walking to the bathroom, you remember your promises to God. In front of the mirror, you splash your face with water and wipe it dry, for the first time in a long time not caring about your make-up. You walk out, find the nearest seat, and open your cell phone. Dialing the numbers, you start to choke up. "Hello?" "Hi Mom," you say. She hears your tears and asks, "Honey, what's wrong?" "Nothing," you say, "Just wanted to tell you I love you."