The engine powers on, deafening me, and my heart and body become a bit heavier as the wheels come off the ground. It’s the first time in nine years I’ve been on a plane without you. I keep wanting to turn to look at you, find reassurance in your eyes, comfort in your voice. But in your place is a stranger, and I’m all alone.
Our home shrinks and shrinks, disappearing behind me, and I wonder if you’ll think of me the way I think of you, only when I have finally gone.