Going Home (Songbird)

He’d brought me to the airport. He’d done that. His mother had phoned the night before – spoke to him, not me. She was worried that I’d gone back – to him and not back to my country. No, no, I’d be at the airport in the morning.

I’d packed – not too much. Okay? I’ll be back. Just need some time. I’d already moved out for a bit, to work. Wasn’t supposed to work that many hours, being a foreign student – oh well, it was temporary, temp. I was just a temp. I bought a plane ticket.

Two bags should do it. My high school graduation luggage. A gift from my grandmother. Unloaded, he walked me in. Which airline? Which terminal? Which desk? I’d gotten the day wrong – it was yesterday. I smiled weakly, he wouldn’t be angry now – see? I wasn’t leaving now.

“Not to worry, we can put you on another flight. Just go to gate —.”

I walked through to departures. I don’t remember if I said good-bye. It was like a dream. Slow motion and silent. I saw no faces. Heard nothing on the plane for 11 hours.

I arrived in Los Angeles to no one waiting.

#Feetslowmedown

One thought on “Going Home (Songbird)

  1. I’m proud of you girl. Nikki and I just got back from a cruise beginning in Barcelona we hit France and many ports in Italy. I got to go back to Naples, the city where I lived and showed her around to do some shopping. She loved it. our next venture, hopefully next year, we’re going to make the stop in the UK to come see you. Nikki and I absolutely adore the European experience we desire more of it. in fact, we’re considering import/export business.
    Love you,
    Kurt

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