The Airport - A story
I was there. The airport. The in-between land. I hadn't been here in a while. I didn't like this place before. I hated flying before I knew what it felt like. He would tell me how much he loved this place – the airport. He associated it with some sort of magic. It took me a long time to understand that, the magic. But I finally saw the beauty he wanted me to. He helped me see it but it was too late. I'm here today because I have to see if he’s doing okay. It took me seven years, but I finally built up the courage to come to the airport on the one day I knew he would be here, pushing a trolley containing his bags. The last time I came to the arrivals’ section, I had come to pick him up. He was returning from his yearly visit to his parents. He always visited them in the same one week, the week of their anniversary. He would smile widely as he stepped out the doors and almost run towards me. He'd have one more suitcase than he had when he left. Gifts from his parents,