until the fates let us,
Ali
Meet him at the airport. So here I am. Watching the board for that 5pm flight from JFK. I begin to get nervous. After months of conversations and web chats, here I am. What if he doesn’t like me? He knows EVERYTHING about me, so why do I feel like he knows NOTHING?
I have to get my fight or flight response under control. I know I can still turn tail and run. I know that I can either step forward or back. Stepping back takes me to everything safe. Everything normal and boring. But it is safe. No choices no hard decisions. No option of risking my heart. I could be content, happy even. Yet I would never be satisfied. I would always wonder. Stepping forward. That sends me in to a world of choice and chance. Thrill and adventure. I risk my heart and my soul in this option. I would be content, happy and satisfied. So forward or back? Fight or flight? I laugh forgetting I am in an airport, causing several passer Byers to give me interesting looks. I have no choice in the matter. My heart made my decision for my long ago.
The board changes. one word catches my eye. ARRIVED. Here goes everything and nothing at the same time. I pull out my compact and inspect my wildly curly hair knowing there is nothing I can do for it now. I run my hands down the sides of my silky red shirt then brush the invisible lines and lint of my grey pencil skirt. I walk as close as I can get to the gate.
Watching. Waiting.
There. I see him. I let out the breath I never knew I was holding. The crowd begins to part as I slowly take a patent black stiletto step forward. Each step becomes increasing in pace. I hear the sound of his carry-on dropping to the ground. I feel his hands touch mine, funny I don’t even remember reaching out for him. All I see is his face, the look in his eyes as he takes me in. Like he is surprised I actually came. I feel the world slow, I hear the chatter of the passengers stop. Everything is waiting on us. My eyes flutter closed. I can feel his breath on my skin. His arms close around me. Enfolding me. My hands slide up his arms and around his neck. My fingers weaving into his hair. Kiss. My feet lift off the ground. There is a rushing in my ears. A tingling all over my skin. He tastes like summer after the rain. Sweet like the lavender and honey blend I know he takes in his tea.
I know everyone has stopped and is now staring at us. For once in my life I don’t care. The old women with their husbands and the ones with their groups of girlfriends all lift their hands to their hearts sigh and reminisce to the others “Remember when we were young? So in love? Without a care in the world? ” When we break away we just smile. He takes my hand and we begin to walk. The world still watching begins to come to life again.
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