Flights

 Flight

Its the smell of the jet fuel, burning the 

back of the throat, that assaults you first, uprooting your

happy and excited thoughts of holidays, of the beach, the hotel,

the sea

Skin prickling, the chill of the cold English morning 

sends you on your way

'you'll be coming back to this, sucker !!!' in my head, blasts forth

turning my stomach, already full of butterflies, now acid

Keys, phone, earphones, bag, book to read.

that should help me last the hours in a capsule

attached to 200 other people, all trying to have their unique and single minded

holiday

whilst all doing the same thing, going to the same places, swimming in the same ocean

I find my seat. Yay! It's on the window.

I didn't know booking a specific seat was a thing

crushed into the small area, belt on, earphones connected, head against the seat

Close my eyes and breathe in deeply.

Maybe there won't be anyone next to me.

everyone watches the new arrivals appear, try not to catch their eyes

'Whew' as they walk past.  Slowly breathe out.

but

the seat is taken.

avoid catching their view.

Doors close.

Pressure goes up.

Popping ears

The background noise of the safety brief, and when to walk about passes me by.

Thump as the hold closes.

Waiting for the movement, which suddenly begins, accompanied by the happy voice of the pilot welcoming us to his flight

engines start to roar, movement speeds up, the landscape starts to blur

and, as if with a huge effort

we lift

and the rumble stops, but the roar continues

until it dims, we bank, lift and then level off

earphones, music, close eyes, sleep

towards our destination

one we will Never make but I will, carrying you on my heart

always

I choose to do so

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