Bittersweet Journey- Part One

I left work Friday afternoon, with a mini bottle concealed in the middle of my tubes and bottles. The TSA guy at the x-ray machine was more interested in picking tree blossoms out of my hair than checking my liquids. When I got back to the gate, I bought a cranberry-grape juice, drank the first third of it, and added the vodka.  I could have probably fit two more in there, and they would have come in handy on my return trip. Security at the small regional airport near Mom and Dad’s wasn’t any more interested in fussing with my ziploc bag.

When I landed in Atlanta, I struck up a conversation with a guy named Tom. We figured out that we were on the same flight out of Atlanta, so we had lunch and drinks at the bar across from our departure gate. When we were done, he boarded, and I was coming to grips with the very likely possibility that I was not going to get a seat on the plane. After a militant gate agent saw fit to give me the very last seat, I found myself next to a very beautiful girl my age. She did not seem chatty, so I took a quick look to see if Tom was anywhere in the vicinity. He was in the row behind me, on the other side of the aisle, and I made eye contact and waved. Rosy from the vodka and relieved to have made the flight, I drifted off to sleep. The girl in the seat next to me put the armrest down and the noise startled me awake. She quickly apologized and put her arm down on the armrest to rub her temples. I offered her some Aleve, and she gladly took two. We talked the entire rest of the flight. Her name is Zora, and she’s looking to get out of Atlanta and her current career, but hasn’t quite figured out how. She will, though. She seems smart and capable enough to do whatever she wants.

We walked to baggage claim together, and while we were waiting on the bags, we ran into Tom. Tom and Zora are in different roles in the same industry. All three of us are originally from the area, and all three of us are home to see friends and family. We all exchanged information, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a reunion over the weekend that I wasn’t invited to. They would make some incredible babies, if they ever got to that point. It was really cute. I will absolutely be staying in touch with Zora.

Dad picked me up and we started the long drive to their new house. We chatted easily, catching up and reminiscing and laughing as we drove past old haunts, long time friends and family, and early memories. Once we had driven well beyond our past, we stopped for gas. I called Mom and let her know that we were about two hours out. It was hard to get her off the phone.

When we got back on the road, driving through new country, headed further north, our conversation shifted similarly. We talked about the present, and the future.

Part Two
Part Three
Part Four