The Trip Back

The white fields of Europe in March
Merge into the grey nothingness of the horizon
That blends into the peach and mauve bands of morning light;
And the clear blue sky expands above.

The magnificent flying swans of Lufthansa
Come home to roost briefly in the pigeon holes
Created on the outer walls of giant concrete structures
Before filling their bellies again with humans and taking off.

Within these concrete structures surrounded by criss-crossing miles of concrete strips,
Security frisks you
Duty-free shop lights blind you
The PA system announcements startle you
Coffee smells tempt you
The automatically rotating self-sanitizing toilet seats comfort you.

And you wait. And wait. And wait.

I am drowsy;
I don’t know if it is hot or cold outside or even if it is day or night;
The time on my watch doesn’t help -
It is the future in a place I’ve left far behind.

The coffee and biscuits and peanuts revive me so I try to read
But not for long because my mind wanders;
I think of the people I’ve had to leave back in the place that is no longer home
And wonder when and under what circumstances I’ll see them next.

The cigarette smells waft over but Sudoku takes my mind off that until I get stuck
And my mind wanders again;
I realize that I’m excited about going home.
How long will it take me this time to get back to a “normal” routine?

The waves of tired travelers have now come and gone and I wake up from my stupor;
I walk for an hour and unlock my limbs knowing I’ll soon be strapped in the belly of another flying swan;
This time the voice on the PA system doesn’t startle me because I’m waiting for it;
The glare of the clouds over the Atlantic is blinding so I close the shades of my window;
The end of my trip has just begun.