April Flash #7
based on prompts by:
Amygdala: wet hair; mirror-mind; heartbreak country
Haredawg: catching the red eye; conjunctivitis
Silverstar46: heavy breathing; they grow like tulips in Spring; sand castles
I was catching the red eye from Los Angeles to New York, stuck in the airport in the early hours of the morning, all checked in with somewhere to go but it wasnt time to leave. Not yet. I had wet hair, caught in a thunderstorm between the taxi and the front door LAX was crowded with thunder growling in the ceiling, lightning lighting up the night like a giant angel directing air traffic. Chances are we wouldnt be leaving tonight. But we couldnt leave, lest our plane be called unrepentantly during a rare but known-to-happen break in the weather. The weather on the west coast was unpredictable and changing. My clothes were drying more quickly, pacing under the fluorescent lights, trying not to look out the giant plate-glass windows toward the winged, aluminum bird that would take me out of this place, out of this world. Out of this nightmare. I was leaving heartbreak country behind me, settling for a lonely ride, instead. I had enough of the heavy breathing between shouting matches, tired of the long looks and angry tones when the words were too repetitive to be heard clearly. What was said mattered little, anyway. I was mirror-minded, seeing only the reflection for a long time of what I wished could be but wasnt. Eventually that sharpened piece of glass starts laughing at you, and you realize youve been living a lie, separate in the opposite of what is real. Raising my right hand to match my reflections left. I didnt know which version of me was real anymore, which meant it was time to get away. I left you with conjunctivitis, although whether it was an actual sickness or the lingering red of tears, Ill never know. I was choosing not to deal with the aftermath, leaving instead. It was the best thing for me. The best thing for both of us. Sooner or later, your reflection would tell you so, too. I was leaving the chill of the pacific for the warmth of the atlantic, looking for a new beach to sprout sand-castles in, where they would crop up and grow like tulips in the spring. I had ever confidence, really. That was monumental.
I finally collapsed in an empty row of seats, kicking my feet up, holding my book upside down and taking a moment to realize why the words seemed foreign, like the taste of goodbye on my tongue the moment I said it. It was not a word that came easy to me, like learning to speak Japanese while at the same time immersing yourself in the culture, realizing youre a long way from home. I felt that way sometimes, not knowing where home was, but knowing that where I was wasnt it. It was never it, here. The smog overcame the senses here and seemed to affect rational thought. It was hard to be clear-headed amidst all the shit. I wanted the scream of seagulls coming in off the coast, I wanted the smell of fish, the pull of boats up and down the coast. Different coast going from one extreme to another.
The flight was finally called, and I collected my two bags, marveling at how much life you could cram into such a small space and how sad it was that my reality was marked by luggage tags, roller wheels, and a lingering damp from the onslaught of weather. I boarded, getting my covetous window seat, seeing the rain lashing the windows like it was trying to break through the layers to convince me to stay. Not this time. I pressed my nose to the glass like a child and smiled, a lingering knowledge of all I had learned here in all the time that had passed. I was not escaping or running away, rather running towards the outcome I had not anticipated but knew was right. Time for a new start, a fresh beginning. A world of hope.
new prompts: altered shade; mirror reality; collected consciousness