Saturday, November 27, 2010

Sept. 27, 2020

You can’t take things for granted. I thought it was a pain in the ass to pack up my things, put them on a plane, and go to college. Walking home is an even bigger pain. And I had a slight fear of flying. I would love to be on a plane now. I remember getting on the flight to college. I was already nervous just with the whole life change. A new state, new home, new friends. Would I make friends? Would college be hard? Would I miss home? Mom knew I was nervous. She spent the whole flight trying to get my mind off of school. She talked about the news, the stock market, and even sports. Not that she was an expert in any of those things. Then she couldn’t help but give me cooking tips. Something she did know about. Like I was going to be a cook in college. I was on one of those meal plans. I should have cooked. It would have been better than that crap. Would love some of that crap now. The plane hit some turbulence and I almost shit my pants. That was the only time I was on a plane since I was little. I thought we were going down for sure. Mom was saying it was normal, and I thought she was nuts. She said it was like speed bumps in the road, but in the air. That was probably the most scared I had been until the zombies took over. I closed the window. I don’t understand why we had to have a seat by the window. At that point you couldn’t even see the ground. We could have crashed into anything. A building, homes, the highway, one of these stupid fields, a lake, or the ocean. All bad scenarios. Certain death I told her. Then it all went away and she spent the rest of the flight making fun of me. Laugh at my expense. I would take that now. She could laugh at me all day, and night. Oh mom, I had to take the flight home alone when she passed away. She would have been proud. The turbulence didn’t get to me. I cheated, my mind just was on other things. I couldn’t care about turbulence at that moment. It was a long flight though. The flight attendant knew something was wrong with me. She kept asking if I was ok. I kept saying no. Finally told her what happened. She actually slipped me a small glass of vodka because I wasn’t old enough to drink. It looked like water to others, but it sure as hell wasn’t water. That was some strong shit. Calmed me down a little. Dad was there waiting for me when we landed. I felt like I was taking the walk of shame as I walked into his arms. I wasn’t there. I couldn’t say goodbye. I couldn’t help her. Dad gave me a big hug as I exploded with tears. The vodka had worn off. He said it was all right, but for me, it wasn’t and never has been. And I’m right. That is why she is haunting my dreams. Because I wasn’t there. It was my fault. 

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