Written a very long time ago, in my teens.
One of my fondest memories is from the window of an airplane on a journey back home. I had said goodbye to my father and grandmother just an hour earlier, and walked onto a 727airline jet, shaking. I hadn’t wanted to delay getting on the plane, for I knew the tears that had threatened would burst forth, and I hadn’t wanted my family to see them. I had to be strong for them. After hearing the boarding call for pre-boarders, I knew it was almost over. I was given a brief, stiff hug from my father and a solitary kiss atop my head. From my grandmother I was given a lingering embrace and a river of tears showering my head…Good-byes were always the hardest part. Over the intercom, the call for pre-boarders was again posted, and it was time to leave. “I have to go,” I said. “I’ll see you again at Christmas.” I had turned and walked away, desperately wanting to run and hug them once more. But if I turned back, they’d see the tears I had hidden behind my facade trying to free themselves from behind my eyes. They would realize I wasn’t so strong. I handed my ticket to the stewardess, keeping my face hidden from her prying eyes, walked down the terminal, and onto the plane. My mind was racing, my palms were shaking, and everything seemed to collide into a huge mass of sorrow. As I stepped aboard the plane, smiles and cheerful greetings confronted me. A solitary tear crept down my face, then deposited itself onto the floor. I could not speak, for the lump in my throat would not allow it. I looked distractedly upon their faces, knowing that just yesterday mine had been the same as I played miniature golf with my family. Concern flickered briefly across the pilot’s face, and I scurried to my seat before any questions could be asked. I stowed my carry-on under the seat in front of me and stared, as if in total concentration, at the back of the seat in front of me. I let the anger build and boil at having to go through this emotional turmoil every time. I glanced out of the window for a moment. I hated the bright sunlight and cheery atmosphere. The bustle of activity caught my attention, and I was reminded of happenings just days ago: the trip to my cousins’ house. Everyone had greeted me like a long-lost friend, which, in many ways, I had been. I had settled down to play with the dog for but a moment, when I was whisked away to play Hide-and-Seek, followed by a game of Gladiators. Thoroughly worn out, I was allowed ten minutes to eat and recharge, and then off we went to Save the Planet! I smiled through my tears at these memories, and watched the ground start to move. After the plane stopped at the runway, the engines starting roaring, and we were off. The plane’s nose went into the air first, quickly followed by the tail. The pressure increased in my ears, to almost painful, but I didn’t mind: it echoed the pain in my heart, and the disappointment at remembering being betrayed by my so-called “Creator”, when I was three. As we ascended into the growing mass of cotton clouds, I was reminded of my grandmother’s house, picture perfect, yet a place for children’s dreams to come true. Every joyous Christmas was spent there; filled with family, love, and peace. Every day that I had visited was filled with activity, and I was included in every detail. Her house was filled with warmth and reminded me of my home two thousand miles away. It was a home-away-from-home, but only twice a year for a few days. I cherished the time I spent with her, but always ached for more. Remembering the things I’d missed, always brought me back to tears. In contrast to the receding sorrow, I was reminded of an old memory. My parents’ divorce, that, as a child, left me drowning in confusion and anger towards what I had once believed. At the time, I hadn’t realized to what extent that event had had on me, but I am aware of it now. I never quite fully trusted in God again. After the resentment filled my mind, my attention turned towards the distant scenery. It was awash with color: baby blue, lavender, pale rose, and endless variances, where no one color ended distinctly for another to begin. It was as if an artist had taken a brush and painted a majestic painting of soft, framing colors around a brilliant, yet fading, orange center. I was left in awe. The next few moments left me breathless. I watched, transfixed, as the orange center sank lower and lower into the paling colors; a painting in motion at its climax. A piercing glare appeared as it dipped into the clouds, feet first. I watched as it sank deeper. At last, the final section of outer rim diminished and disappeared under the now darkening clouds. The sun had shown its glorious descent to me...and I had watched on without going blind. Peace swept through my veins and I slowly shook my head in a daze. I gazed out of the window and was astounded. A magical kingdom danced before my eyes, full of smiles, and happiness, and joy. The clouds had turned animate. I looked around the cabin seeing if anyone else around me was also watching this miraculous scene, but they all seemed to have their eyes closed, or otherwise busy. I turned back around and shuttered the window, half-afraid of what I might NOT see. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the headrest. I forgot about everything painful and thought about the wonders of life. How the end to one day always brings a new day in due time. How the tears of yesterday are the smiles of tomorrow. Every loss has its gain; every ending has its new beginnings. Memories will last a lifetime. A warm glow spread throughout every part of my being...and I prayed. For the first time in so many years, I actually talked to God. I asked for forgiveness for not believing, for being angry at what I had thought throughout the years was unjust. He listened and responded without words, but thoughts. My parents’ divorce was not His fault; it was His doing. Both of them are now happier. My childhood memories were not to be forgotten or remembered with anger, they were to be celebrated for even having them in the first place. He gave me peace as tears flooded my face once again…My ever-forgiving Father. I relaxed in my seat, emotionally drained, and watched dusk turn into night. The colors were turning indigo, then black. The stars were appearing and starting to shine, reminding me of the hunt for fireflies four nights past. Memories came flooding back, but this time it wasn’t painful. This time, I accepted them with open arms, allowing them to stay with me for the remainder of the flight. I have learned not to forget my special memories. I’ve learned to store them away...for tomorrow’s smiles. ***Although my faith lies elsewhere now, and some may say I commit blasphemy by saying this, whether you believe in a God, or many Gods and Goddesses, that's why they call it faith. If believing in something helps make your life better, your spirit stronger, your stress bearable...they you should not have to worry about what others think of you. This is YOUR LIFE...Each day is a gift, not a given right. Sometimes I forget that.
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Julie WestphalAuthor, Poet, Dreamer Archives
February 2024
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