Conversation buzzed throughout the room; screaming kids, teary elders, laughing would-be tourists, family and loved ones with parting words...airport waiting room it is. At the third seat of the center aisle, I stilly watch the ceaseless action whirling about me like a fast-forwarded film with limitless tape. I tug my cap down, cloaking my eyes from activity.

"Departure, flight 268, departure..."

Hasty travelers boarded the plane of diverse dreams and purposes, most eager to leave behind familiarity for a change with a given chance. To say that the miles and seas separate people apart seem so trivial as I trail my fingertips lightly over the short route marked on the map. In reality, our world is immensely small, slight paradox forever governing the human race. Distance does not truly alter the now that is, but so selfishly fluctuates the psychological essence that cultivates the physical being.

The first breath of fresh air I took was magical as I step outside the streaming sunshine and lashing wind all in the same air. I lean against the cold, netted fence, brush back my tousled hair, and face the skies, eyes fastening on the rising plane. Wide, mighty, it soars in the empyrean as a peregrine falcon would rule the heavens above, skating on that sharp azure backdrop of the most quixotic Tanzanite blue. Slowly, it ascends high enough to penetrate silky white cocoon clouds of frost, the only cacophony in the distant firmament. The breeze shred these into sheer fabrics hazing aloft, soon completely veiling sight of the plane...and part of my heart.

Soaring quetzal takes away one I know.
Soaring quetzal brings back one I knew.

Like a tape rewound, I am once again here, third seat, center aisle--still refreshed from the breather, still a lost lass. The waiting room seems strangely more vacant than minutes before. But...why am I here? This feeling...of waiting? Of chasing? Aye, it is the feeling of losing something I never had. No longer having a clear purpose, I close my eyes...for the world have suddenly blurred too much for me to see anything without distortion.

The rows and rows of chairs that stretched the aisles reminded me too much of peach trees grown in identical parallels within an open field orchard. It reminded me too much of the sweet scent emitted from verdure pulsing with the finest tones of life as I settled helplessly in your embrace, hands entwined. Your smiles, your laughs, were gentle, tangible rays from behind. Sekai de ichiban atsui haru* .

But, as I open my eyes now and reacquaint myself with reality, the recollection of memories appears no more than filament dismantled from a distant dream--segments scattered in the breeze, no longer a complete, refined masterpiece masterminded by zeal. Instead, they are different threads recomposing original patterns not knowing which preceding the other.

I got up from my seat and observed passersby, now frozen to a fixed image. I shrugged and sauntered out the airport of disturbing silence. A film, paused.

* "The world's hottest spring" is what it says, directly derived from Princess Princess's song, "Sekai de Ichiban Atsui Natsu". Those who are familiar with the song should be able to relate. ^_^