dear life 73
dear life,
this is the story of my carry-on which got lost during my trip to DC. hope you enjoy it.
"Oops, where am I? Have we already arrived?" I look around, paying as much attention as I can with my sleepy head. I hear some mumbling and as I listen more carefully; I understand English spoken around, so, guess we are there – but wait a minute, the accent is not American, it is pure British mixed with some Hindu-British, and so I start wandering. Weren't we supposed to go to the States? Where is my mom? Where are the ones I made friends with during the flight?
I eye everywhere, but no sign of mom, no sign of familiar faces; wait, there is one far away. The little black boy who sat next to me in the plane as we talked of our first experience of a trip so long. He was funny ok, yet he had that sense of having it inside him to turn into a great bully one day, soon that he had traveled enough to be able to boast of it to others. I open my mouth to call him to see if he knows what is going on, but before I can say anything, someone reaches for him from out of nowhere and takes him away, smiling as she welcomes him. So gone he is! The others around are big guys, mostly on the verge of explosion of so much food they have stuffed inside before leaving for the trip as to assure for a safer stay in an unfamiliar land. They are all busy looking for their loved ones scattered around in the airport. The good thing is they can not leave the spot and have to wait for their loved ones to pick them up, so I have more time to search for a familiar face, not feeling as lonely, even though I am trembling of fear as I am starting to feel left behind and lost, yet do not dare to raise my childish voice to get some attention.
One by one they are gone into tired but familiar arms - some are welcomed by a big hug, some by just a smile – the kind that comes when you see your family after a while - some are taken off their feet with excitement, and some are just simply gone. And suddenly I am left all alone.
Tears start to fall down my face, over my red dress we had bought new for the trip with my mom, which is now wrinkled and not so much fresh, exactly like my own features.
I remember just a few hours ago when I parted my mom in another airport where we began our journey into the unknown. We were supposed to sit next to each other, but then the airport official asked her to sit me in another section where I would have more space to play around, assuring her that I would be in good hands and she would have me back safe and sound when we arrived in our final destination. I saw the perplexed look in her eyes for a moment – the look she has whenever she is not sure and is afraid yet does not dare to reveal - then she took out something she had put in my bag to keep for her and kissed me goodbye, whispering in my ears soft words, "Go find some friends, have fun, and promise to be a good girl. See you when we get there," she concluded as she straightened my dress and handed me to the young man standing at the foot of the plane stairs waiting for me and other kids to be taken to the playground at the lower level of the plane. She once more asked the officer to make sure that I would be taken care of till the final destination where she could have me in her sweet arms. And as such we had parted!
And now here I am, left alone, tears all over my face, asking for my mom while sobbing and running out of breath. Then a lady in airport uniform nears me with worrying eyes. "Why are you crying, you little beautiful girl? What a nice red dress you have! Where is your mom?" she asks in her British accent and I continue to sob with even a greater enthusiasm. Caressing me with her soft manicured hands, she starts to look for the identification card given to me before getting into the plane. "Oh, so that is why. You were supposed to go on yet another plane. They just thought your mom was taking off here. Don’t worry, I am gonna take good care of you. Come on, don’t cry now. Let’s wash your face and give you some … what do you like to eat? Icecream? Or a hamburger?" she takes my hands in hers and off we go.
So she does as she promised, she takes good care of me for the next 24 hours until she gives me to another officer to put me on a plane straight to DC, to my mom.
Passing through that day is quite hard, considering it is my first flight out of the country, actually my first flight at all; hard it was, even with the nice lady trying her best not to let me miss my mom, yet as I sit in the next plane, I think to myself, "Wow! I not only did my first flight, I did a whole day all alone without my mom! I have grown big now!" I smile to myself, my eyes shining with an unknown pleasure as the stewardess offers me an orange juice and some cookies.
That day was hard for my mom too, I find out later. After such a long journey, she had waited and waited for a long time for me to come out and join her in the airport, but as all passengers had embarked, she had finally come to the understanding that I was missing. Cursing herself for taking not good care of me, thinking that she had not explained well to the officer where I was destined, thinking all the worst with herself, she had explained the situation to an officer of the airline, who had told her to go to the office and file a missing report.
So she had left without me, passing through customs and finding dad at the other side of the line. They had hugged and kissed, seeing each other after such a long time, but her thoughts were with me, so they had gone straight to the office and did as she was told. "It would take at least 24 hours until we find any clues. We will contact you," the officer had said.
Those hours and minutes had passed so slowly for her, yet she had all the luck as a friend back at home with some friends in the airline searched for me from there and found, before the officer called her, that I was mistakenly in England, but I was safe and sound and would be flown to her the next day.
So she just had to wait.
And she waits until finally the call comes, "I am calling to see if anyone is at home for the delivery of your baby girl in the next four hours," the voice on the other end says. "Of course!" so she waits some more four hours, and then the door bell is rang, and there I am, in the same red dress my mom had left me in with the officer at the airport home, with a smile on my face and a candy in my hand. I throw myself into her arms, saying with all the excitement boiling in my voice, "Mom, I have grown up! I did my first flight without you, I lived one day without you!" and she kisses my hair as she thanks the delivery man, signs for my receipt, and closes the door to our new home miles and miles away from home.
this is the story of my carry-on which got lost during my trip to DC. hope you enjoy it.
"Oops, where am I? Have we already arrived?" I look around, paying as much attention as I can with my sleepy head. I hear some mumbling and as I listen more carefully; I understand English spoken around, so, guess we are there – but wait a minute, the accent is not American, it is pure British mixed with some Hindu-British, and so I start wandering. Weren't we supposed to go to the States? Where is my mom? Where are the ones I made friends with during the flight?
I eye everywhere, but no sign of mom, no sign of familiar faces; wait, there is one far away. The little black boy who sat next to me in the plane as we talked of our first experience of a trip so long. He was funny ok, yet he had that sense of having it inside him to turn into a great bully one day, soon that he had traveled enough to be able to boast of it to others. I open my mouth to call him to see if he knows what is going on, but before I can say anything, someone reaches for him from out of nowhere and takes him away, smiling as she welcomes him. So gone he is! The others around are big guys, mostly on the verge of explosion of so much food they have stuffed inside before leaving for the trip as to assure for a safer stay in an unfamiliar land. They are all busy looking for their loved ones scattered around in the airport. The good thing is they can not leave the spot and have to wait for their loved ones to pick them up, so I have more time to search for a familiar face, not feeling as lonely, even though I am trembling of fear as I am starting to feel left behind and lost, yet do not dare to raise my childish voice to get some attention.
One by one they are gone into tired but familiar arms - some are welcomed by a big hug, some by just a smile – the kind that comes when you see your family after a while - some are taken off their feet with excitement, and some are just simply gone. And suddenly I am left all alone.
Tears start to fall down my face, over my red dress we had bought new for the trip with my mom, which is now wrinkled and not so much fresh, exactly like my own features.
I remember just a few hours ago when I parted my mom in another airport where we began our journey into the unknown. We were supposed to sit next to each other, but then the airport official asked her to sit me in another section where I would have more space to play around, assuring her that I would be in good hands and she would have me back safe and sound when we arrived in our final destination. I saw the perplexed look in her eyes for a moment – the look she has whenever she is not sure and is afraid yet does not dare to reveal - then she took out something she had put in my bag to keep for her and kissed me goodbye, whispering in my ears soft words, "Go find some friends, have fun, and promise to be a good girl. See you when we get there," she concluded as she straightened my dress and handed me to the young man standing at the foot of the plane stairs waiting for me and other kids to be taken to the playground at the lower level of the plane. She once more asked the officer to make sure that I would be taken care of till the final destination where she could have me in her sweet arms. And as such we had parted!
And now here I am, left alone, tears all over my face, asking for my mom while sobbing and running out of breath. Then a lady in airport uniform nears me with worrying eyes. "Why are you crying, you little beautiful girl? What a nice red dress you have! Where is your mom?" she asks in her British accent and I continue to sob with even a greater enthusiasm. Caressing me with her soft manicured hands, she starts to look for the identification card given to me before getting into the plane. "Oh, so that is why. You were supposed to go on yet another plane. They just thought your mom was taking off here. Don’t worry, I am gonna take good care of you. Come on, don’t cry now. Let’s wash your face and give you some … what do you like to eat? Icecream? Or a hamburger?" she takes my hands in hers and off we go.
So she does as she promised, she takes good care of me for the next 24 hours until she gives me to another officer to put me on a plane straight to DC, to my mom.
Passing through that day is quite hard, considering it is my first flight out of the country, actually my first flight at all; hard it was, even with the nice lady trying her best not to let me miss my mom, yet as I sit in the next plane, I think to myself, "Wow! I not only did my first flight, I did a whole day all alone without my mom! I have grown big now!" I smile to myself, my eyes shining with an unknown pleasure as the stewardess offers me an orange juice and some cookies.
That day was hard for my mom too, I find out later. After such a long journey, she had waited and waited for a long time for me to come out and join her in the airport, but as all passengers had embarked, she had finally come to the understanding that I was missing. Cursing herself for taking not good care of me, thinking that she had not explained well to the officer where I was destined, thinking all the worst with herself, she had explained the situation to an officer of the airline, who had told her to go to the office and file a missing report.
So she had left without me, passing through customs and finding dad at the other side of the line. They had hugged and kissed, seeing each other after such a long time, but her thoughts were with me, so they had gone straight to the office and did as she was told. "It would take at least 24 hours until we find any clues. We will contact you," the officer had said.
Those hours and minutes had passed so slowly for her, yet she had all the luck as a friend back at home with some friends in the airline searched for me from there and found, before the officer called her, that I was mistakenly in England, but I was safe and sound and would be flown to her the next day.
So she just had to wait.
And she waits until finally the call comes, "I am calling to see if anyone is at home for the delivery of your baby girl in the next four hours," the voice on the other end says. "Of course!" so she waits some more four hours, and then the door bell is rang, and there I am, in the same red dress my mom had left me in with the officer at the airport home, with a smile on my face and a candy in my hand. I throw myself into her arms, saying with all the excitement boiling in my voice, "Mom, I have grown up! I did my first flight without you, I lived one day without you!" and she kisses my hair as she thanks the delivery man, signs for my receipt, and closes the door to our new home miles and miles away from home.
posted by friend @ 1:39 PM
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