Flight home

I looked out the window, my seat was close to the wing, 32A. This was only the 2nd time I took a MAS flight to travel between Melbourne and home. Normally, I would have been on AirAsia, and always sitting in 51D. An aisle seat in the back most row on the plane. 

I tapped the glass with a finger, it was cool to the touch despite the Australian summer sun beating down outside. It was a long time before the plane moved. I was tired and relieved and waiting. Waiting to feel something. I was leaving Melbourne, leaving university, leaving a time during which I had only to care for myself. I felt freedom slipping from my fingers, Time turning its cruel back on me. I waited for the telling catch to rise in my throat. 

When the plane moved I stared at the wing's shadow. The shadow was crisp on tarmac and blurry where it fell on grass. The grass was green, smattered with tiny yellow flowers that grew wild and rampant anywhere on the sidewalks in Melbourne. Between the bright green were flaxen weeds. It had started raining by then. I worked my mind into reminiscing my last month in Melbourne. Most of these memories entailed moments with my roommate. How I love being around her.

I remember Melbourne like the reflections thrown by puddles on wet pavement. Stark and clear in places, faded into grey in others, and brief; as the Sun dries it all up in due time. 

When the plane took off I leaned closer to the window. I let the glare burn my vision. This bright, blinding Sun I only find in Melbourne. I shall miss it. It is a metaphor, in a way, of my golden days. Ha. Such carefreeness even in trying moments. Something about living away from home. Something about existing as an individual separate from parental supervision, familial roles. All of which could be cold and difficult sometimes, to be so independent, but mostly, freeing.

I looked around for the familiar azure of the Australian Sky. It was foggy, all is faded grey. Even in my last moments, Melbourne seeked to be surreal. I accepted its will. I watched the MAS logo on the wingtip, rise and fall, arching, as the plane turned and breached the lower layer of clouds. And there it was, a glimpse of blue. It was not much, but I drank the sight in.

I now see the land below through the glaze of clouds. I looked and looked. Flat lands of organized squares. Pastures, cities, roads, rivers. Australia is so flat, and terrifically well-planned. I watched the scenery change before me. Mountains, trees, lakes. I shot many videos on my phone. 

Then the plane rose higher still into the Sky. No more land was visible. Only a sea of clouds. I thought of God. The catch came. Tears threatened to well in my eyes, I shed a tear and contained myself. I prayed for many things.

And then I wrenched myself from the window, it was suddenly too much.