There are moments when, in the haze of nervous emotions, I suddenly find certain things that appear to me with much more clarity than the rest.

I don’t recall the brightness of the lights. Don’t recognize any machines within the room. I wouldn’t be able to identify the halls if I’d walked through the place again.

That time the only thing I remembered was a pale purple gown; the one I was given.

It hung on me loosely, two flaps from the back folding over to the front and then woven around behind me once more before tying up into a bow- which was no doubt the only thing keeping it from sliding off altogether.

I remembered thinking, Gosh a dozen of me can fit into this, but the nurse beside me smiled as if everything was meant to be that it washed away any desire to ask for a smaller size or a different color.

She sat me down onto the bed and attached a tube through the hole on my chest. As the garment ballooned and warm air circulated around me, I realized the bagginess was meant to allow for this expansion.

I poked at the stretched-out cloth.

The gown continued swell, and I felt oddly large.

Oddly chubby, bigger than how I am.

As I closed my eyes to rest, I thought the bed to be too crowded and small.




Have you ever heard someone complain about sitting beside a fat person on a plane?

I’ve never had a problem with it, I guess, because I’m always so small that I still have plenty of room even when a neighbor takes away a few inches of my seat.

Or maybe because sitting beside a large person brings up good memories of a flight from years and years ago.

On a plane flying from Dallas, with Minneapolis being my final destination, my neighbor was a round elderly man who my mind fondly named as Santa because I forgot to ask for his real name.

It was my first time traveling alone. And usually, being by myself would make me feel more guarded towards anyone I don’t recognize.

But it was also my first time traveling to my beloved.

Closer. Closer we would get.

As the plane took to the skies my heart was soaring. Every stranger felt like a friend. Mr. Santa became my dearest most special friend at the time, on that flight, so happy was I to share my bliss.

Hours flew by in seconds.

I learned that our destination was his home, and he was eager to tell me about the beautiful attractions the city possessed once he learned it would be my first time visiting.

"Are you just seeing the sights? Touring the states?"

I had only smiled, before he proceeded to tell me about the rivers and lakes.

My heart wanted to scream to the world, to tell him, I’m visiting my girlfriend! My girlfriend…My One.

The city would be beautiful, I bet. The world is wonderful.

I want to share this with you. I wish you’d laugh and join in my happiness.

Because life is such a joyous thing. Each step I take is a hundred miles the plane is carrying me, closer to her.

If I leave that city, not having seen any sights at all, it would still be the most magical place to me because it is where my beloved would be.

I will never forget my emotions on that day, of that friend and stranger I who will never meet again.


A needle prickling into my right arm brings me back down on earth. The machine blowing air into the purple dress hums into my ears.

Mixed emotions tear through me.

I do not cry.

Ne, have you ever felt like you should be somewhere else, doing something else with the person you want to be with?

I feel like that all the time.

All the time.

at 01:32 | Permalink