Returning Home

May 26, 2011
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It’s August 2, 2011. My brother Owen and I are at gate H7 at O’Hare Airport. I’m listening to my iPod and he to his. A voice booms over the intercom: “Flight 117 is now boarding.”

We stand and catch up our carry-ons. Taking our earphones out of our ears, Owen and I look at each other. We share an excited smile and hand the flight attendant our tickets. Walking down the passage to the plane, it really sinks in. “I’m going back,” I realize.

The plane is one of the jumbo ones, with three seats in the left hand row, three seats in the row on the right, and five in the center row. Owen and I end up with a center and a window seat… right next to an engine. But not even this could ruin our mood. I even take the middle seat, something I hate. It can’t upset me today.

The flight seems to take ages to even take off, not to mention actual flight time. After the year or so of taxiing, we are up in the air. The ride passes in a slow motion blur, as Owen and I share music, conversation, and the desperate want for sleep that will not come, due to a mix of excitement and lack of comfort.

When, after seven and a half hours, the pilot comes over the loudspeaker, we are dying to get off of that plane. “This is your pilot speaking. We will be landing in approximately fifteen minutes. Currently in London it is sunny and thirty degrees Celsius or eighty-six degrees Fahrenheit. Thank you for flying British Air.”

After touch down, we unload off of the plane and search through a sea of luggage for our two bright orange bags. With duffels in hand, we make our way out to the area where passengers are picked up.

Scanning the crowd of taxi drivers and expectant friends and family, I spot a tall, skinny girl, with dark brown hair wearing skinny jeans and an old, beat up red t-shirt sporting the white lettered logo “The Midnight Beast.” She catches sight of me too and, a huge grin springing up across her face, runs towards me. Flinging my bags to the ground, I sprint, arms open wide, and crash into her.

“Julia” I cry, giving her a big bear hug.

“Welcome home,” she giggles.

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Annieboo said...
Jun. 13, 2011 at 10:57 pm
A nice story, it really has life in it.
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