last minute flights

I hop on the plane in my pink sweater, my backpack decorated with pins I’ve accumulated from every single trip I took to your city. I hold on to the boarding pass for the flight I booked last minute because I missed you. I smile at every single flight attendant I pass before I get to my seat and tell my family I’ve boarded. I skip through arrivals, my luggage seemingly light as a feather as I boarded the train easily, and get home to your apartment we picked.

I grew up in a household where my parents never lived together. I’m familiar with airport drop offs, life updates through phone calls, watching someone live through pictures from across the oceans, and the idea of constant separation. I’ve always said I never wanted a relationship akin to my parents’, so I tried to close the distance as much as possible - even if it meant going through arduous visa applications and long hours on the plane.

I brought my work to your house. You brought me to beautiful places you wanted us to experience with each other. I would make you walk uphill for the view, and you would send candid, pretty photos of me to your family. My dad would ask me if I’m out of the country again, and your dad once said he liked how I smile at you. And every month, for about a week or two, our time together would pass deliciously slow and yet agonizingly fleeting at the same time.

Before I know it, I’m dragging my feet on the plane in search of my seat, wondering about the database filled with identity scan photos of me while I ugly cried through immigration. You made sure my backpack got a shiny new pin and that it’s packed with snacks that will remind me of our time together. I get a notif from my bank about the payment I had just made because of my overweight luggage filled with souvenirs of you. I open our message thread to tell you I’ve boarded, only to read “I can’t believe we’ll be in the same timezone soon” from two weeks ago, knowing that in the foreseeable future, I’ll go back to receiving good morning messages way past noon. I sigh and look out the window, wondering when (or if) I’ll see you again.

‘last minute flights’ is for the sad girls and their offshore lovers ✨

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