The Longest Journey

I didn't think I was going to cry until I turned around and hugged my mom for the last time for an entire month. Then it was over. It was like someone had flicked a switch and I could feel the back of my eyes start to tickle as my sight started to blur and the strange faces around me begin to melt into indistinct shades of pale pinks and tans. Not usually overly emotional I closed my eyes and prayed to every god I'd never believed in not to let me cry in front of these people I didn't know. I turned around to wave goodbye to my mom and let her know that everything would be alright. I had always been strong for my mom, but now I just wanted to run back to her and wrap myself safely in her skirt like I did when I was three years old, when I was safe. Now, as I looked back, I studied the elastic seatbelt material that separated us. Such a small barrier, so flimsy, but I was already so far away. The shiny black material taunted me. I blinked as the tears started to form and the small belt began to drip and grow, magnified by the traitorous liquid running freely down my cheeks until it became a solid black wall. I was really alone.
I pulled myself together and shuffled through security sniffing rapidly and murmuring quiet thanks to the airport employees all wishing me a good day and a safe trip. I just wanted to curl up in a ball and sleep or cry or just hold myself so that my molecules wouldn't fly away and get lost in the empty "inbetween" of the Boise airport. But I didn't. I walked numbly towards my gate, head bent, shoulders hunched, headphones stuck firmly in my ears so that I wouldn't have to talk to anyone, so that I wouldn't have to think, or breathe. The steel frame of the airport chair was cold and unwelcoming as I lowered myself gently onto the navy blue leather material, moving as if with physical pain. A buzzing in my pocket drew me slowly from my fragile mind to the right pocket of my school sweatshirt, all things that reminded me of home, of routine, of friends and family, happiness and peace. I took out my phone to read the text message on the screen. "Be brave little piglet," I read. A note from my mom, from my home, from my whole world, telling me to be brave. To pick up my feet and board the plane without looking back. I closed my phone and drew in a shaky breath, wiping my eyes as I moved towards the gate, purposefully, determinedly. The mantra running through my mind, "be brave little piglet," as I took my seat next to the window, waiting for the rest of my journey to begin. It was then that I realized that I carried everyone with me on that plane, everyone I loved packed into row 19 with me and shut their eyes and held me as the plane lurched free of gravity and my thoughts were lost in the whispers of the upper atmosphere. Carried by wings lifted by the thoughts of all the people I knew I would miss. "Be brave little piglet."