Perspective Gained from a Plane

A fictional story inspired by a moment of clarity on a particularly turbulent flight.

Dear Diary,

The plane’s just taken off. I don’t want to be on it.

I’m supposedly headed to spend a pleasant holiday with my family. Yet, I sit here anxious, mentally preparing for the stress and heartache that surely awaits.

My heart pangs watching my beautiful, exotic new homeland fade from view.

I regret wasting the morning arguing with my husband. I’ll apologize the minute I land. Anxious about the visit, I was impatient with him.

I just wish he could have come with me. He’s usually my oasis of peace and resiliency, especially during the emotion-depleting trials of these visits.

I awoke momentarily as my stepdaughter was readying to leave for school. But I couldn’t bring myself to say a second difficult goodbye. Her hug would’ve unraveled me, and I’d never have gotten on this plane. I’m missing that hug now, though.

Damn, turbulent flight. The weather has already delayed my connection. I hate turbulence. It’s normal, I know. Still, I dig my nails into the armrest with each jolt.

When I land, my sister and I won’t reach the interstate before we argue. It’s what we do.

It’ll be something trivial, of course. Never the big important problems we face. On those, we agree. It’ll be something inconsequential—politics, driving, the tone of voice the other uses. We’re very different people.

This jerking is terrible. I can hardly type. Worse still, the plane engines are squealing deafeningly. Because of the wind, I suppose.

Mom’s illness is progressing. Increased neurologic symptoms and a bad MRI report were the true impetus of the trip. I decided it was time to see how she’s doing and to speak to the doctors in person again.

I want to spend time with her. I don’t resent her for needing, despite it’s being difficult and painful.

I resent her illness for robbing me of the ability to spend this time with the Mom I’ve known and loved my whole life. I’m not sure she even understands I’ve been gone or why I’m returning.

It’s for the best, though. I don’t want her to worry.

Something doesn’t seem right. The flight attendants buckled into their seats. They keep glancing nervously out the windows. I guess even they aren’t immune to a particularly turbul

I was stupid and wrong. I love you all. I should’ve told you more often and been grateful. Life’s short. I’m thankful to have spent mine with you. I’m sorry. Goodb