Story, Pt 1

"Excuse me, sir," the flight attendant said apologetically, "but you're going to have to turn off your laptop for landing."

Tom glanced up from his computer. "What? Oh, sure. Sorry. Just... one second..." His words trailed off as he resumed typing.

"Sir. I really must insist that you turn your computer off immediately. The captain has already begun his descent." The flight attendant's voice held the slightest hint of frost now. "Tray tables and seat backs should already be returned to their fully upright positions and..."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. Tray tables. Seat backs. Carry ons. I'm on it." Tom hit the save button one last time and clicked the laptop closed. After tucking his computer safely into its case and stowing it dutifully under the seat in front of him, he leaned back against his fully upright seat back and looked out the window. Here and there, wide expanses of white had replaced the lakes that dotted the landscape in warmer months. "You could almost believe there really are 10,000," he thought to himself.

In the deepening gloom, I-35 sparkled with diamonds on one side and rubies on the other. He wondered if one of those diamonds was his mother, on her way to meet him at the airport. Knowing her, it was much more likely that she was still 30 minutes away, and he would have plenty of time to deplane, collect his luggage, and freeze nearly to death while he waited. She just couldn't seem to remember that it took 2 full hours to get to the airport from home, and he couldn't seem to remember to pack a warm enough coat for waiting comfortably. This was why he preferred to visit during the summer months.

The landing gear rumbled below as the ground rushed up to meet them. The voice on the overhead speakers ran through the usual litany of connecting gates and formulaic thanks, but Tom barely heard it. Despite having his glorified word processor banished to safe storage, he was once again consumed with his composition. "The counselor said to keep it short," he reminded himself. "Use 'I' statements. Be specific."

As he tried to recall what he had already written, the lump returned to his throat. Fear again threatened to overwhelm him, just as it had when he'd hung up after the first of a series of increasingly desperate phone calls from his mother. "Please just let her be okay," he muttered under his breath. "She's the only sister I've got."

Tom gathered his sweatshirt and his backpack as the plane taxied toward the gate. He powered his cell phone on as he joined the slow rush to the front of the plane.

(to be continued)

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone