Turbulence

The late spring sun was seeping through the thick foliage of the tall elms. Despite the early morning hours, the park was filling up quickly. A typical Thursday in May. The exhausted cry of a baby from afar, the happy barking of a dog, mingled with the firm chirping of a warbler. Or was it a flycatcher? She honestly had no idea. But it sounded good. It blended well with the empty echo of her own thoughts. Unexpectedly calm. On a day that was setting out to be quite frenetic, she felt like an unconcerned passenger, ready to spend a 24h journey observing her surroundings, peeking into other people’s lives, and guessing who they might be, what they might be doing, where they might be going. The air was drenched with the soft and sharp smell of grass, heightened by the gentle breeze that made it ok to wear a light sweater, despite the season being already unreasonably warm. She lay flat on her belly resting the cheek on her folded hands, a thin layer of cotton the sole barrier between her still body and the fertile, vibrant ground beneath her. She could sense the energy. She could envision the possibilities. There was nowhere she had to be. Nothing she had to do. She breathed in through her nose. She had forgotten what that felt like. Today was different. She was different.

A shrill “ding” pierced through her napping consciousness. A flight attendant rushed by her seat, bumping into her elbow. She hated the aisle seat. In fact, she hated everything about flying. But she wasn’t there by choice, really, and she had accepted whatever ticket and seat were available on the very last notice. She rubbed her arm trying to alleviate the sharp pain, but an unsettling feeling suggested the distress came from farther within. A shot of tequila or something would have been great at this point, but the flying crew seemed suddenly too busy to be bothered with her surfacing anxiety. She had fallen asleep right after take-off, thanks to the perfectly crafted plan not to sleep much the night before. She had gone out for drinks with a couple of work colleagues, and they’d turned it into an all-nighter. When her hazy head hit the softness of the bed, she dozed away immediately, only to be chased out of slumber two hours later by the high-pitched nightmare that was her alarm clock. She felt incredibly hungover, and the short siesta on the plane had only made things worse. The exhaustion hit her all at once, her frontal lobe pounding, her eyes a burning mess, and her throat horse and dry. Maybe a glass of water and coffee would have been the wiser choice.

“Flying for the first time, dear?” the voice came from an elderly woman sitting next to her. She hadn’t noticed her yet, which was odd, being such an observant introvert. She turned towards her seat neighbor and found a gentle face, probably in her 70s, which retained, around the corner of two warm hazel eyes, some sort of youthful joy. She must have had grandkids, for sure. Her light pink shirt was neatly tucked in her grey pants, the buttons all rigorously closed until the last. The hands were manicured and featured a bold maroon. Her silence persisted, but the old woman held her gaze and soft smile regardless.

“I… no” she stuttered, fumbling with her brown hair “I just really don’t like it”.

“You don’t look so well. Are you doing all right?” the genuine concern of her seat neighbor translated into a fist to her chest. She wasn’t expecting all that kindness. Not here, on this plane anyway. “Can I get you some water?” the absence of words on her part didn’t stop the woman from setting forward with motherly intent.

“It’s ok, really” although the haste shrug of the shoulders didn’t quite match the sour expression on her face “Besides, they look kind of busy. What is happening anyway?” she allowed her sight to take in the surroundings, for the first time since she boarded the plane. She hadn’t bothered inspecting the scene when she took her seat in San Francisco. Exhaustion took over quicker than expected, and she was sound asleep before takeoff. She gazed down the narrow corridor. The plane was rather quiet, although it was never actually quiet on a plane. There was always that incessant background noise. The humming of the machine, the rumble of the motor, the heavy weight of air pressure against the big metal bird flying at a speed of approximately 650 mph. How could anything be quiet at 650 mph? But despite that, it looked quiet. She stretched her neck to take a glimpse outside the nearest window, but all she could see was a clouded nothing that seemed so still, so noiseless.

“Oh, you were sleeping pretty soundly, and I didn’t want to wake you” That didn’t answer the question, but she couldn’t help but feel touched by the otherworldly kindness the elderly woman oozed. Maybe that’s what she needed. Just sitting there letting a stranger praise and tend to her. “The captain announced some kind of turbulence” the tone of her voice remaining calm and stoic “Oh but don’t worry dear. These things happen all the time”. She wasn’t worried about the turbulence; she wasn’t worried about flying either. Did she like being in a metal box at 10’000 feet up in the air? Most certainly not. But she wouldn’t go as far as saying she was scared of flying. She lacked a bit of experience in the department, much preferring to travel by car or train, but she knew what turbulence was. She certainly remembered how it felt like. That’s for sure. Her seat neighbor was still candidly smiling at her, her warm wrinkly hand resting on her own forearm. Did she really look that awful? she thought as she pictured two dark shadows under her green eyes, her pupils tainted red by the lack of proper sleep.

“I just have to… quickly…” She untangled her seatbelt and stood up in one motion gesturing towards the lavatory, but a severe-looking flight attendant immediately blocked her way, as she clumsily bumped into her.

“Please remain seated until the warning light is on.”

“Oh, yeah… I’m sorry. I…” the slender woman with the dark navy uniform squeezed past her and continued her rush down the aisle.

“You’ll have to hold it, dear. They are very strict when those lights are on” The lady indicated the light signals above their heads. A tiny red seatbelt beaming particularly bright.

“Was it ever even allowed to smoke on planes?” she had always wondered. The “no smoking” signal had been there for as long as she could remember, and she had always questioned its necessity.

“Oh, but it was. I believe it was permanently banned in the late 90s.”

“Huh” was everything she managed to answer. She didn’t want to be rude, or anything, but it felt awkward to entertain shallow small talk with a stranger. She didn’t like it. So why on earth should anyone else like being randomly talked to by a stranger? Maybe the woman was just being kind for the sake of it. She should thank her and just return to her own silent thoughts.

“So where are you headed, sweetie? If you don’t mind me asking.” There it was. Was it, though, just to be nice? Just for the sake of it? And would it be unpolite if she’d rather not answer that question? “Since you are now wide awake, we might as well just get into it.” Not really, though. She thought but tried hard not to translate any of those feelings on her tired face.

“Well, I guess we are all headed to New York, right?” she nervously laughed, hoping her answer would get the third-degree off her back.

“Oh, silly me. You are right.” The old lady shrugged lightly, playing it off. “I’m actually headed to New Haven. My nephew, he is an undergraduate student at Yale University.”

“Right… yeah… I’m just… New York. City! New York City.”

“Are you visiting someone?” the air was getting thicker by the minute, drenched with the stingy and artificial smell of polyester, heightened by the sharp stream of cold air, bursting out of the air conditioning above their heads. She reached up and turned the control valve until the almost hearable hiss stopped. For a second, it almost felt like the plane went quiet. “Oh, noisy me. I really don’t want to bother you. I’m just a curious old lady.”

“No, I… I mean, you are not. It’s…” The background noise was again, suddenly, so loud and overwhelming, it made it difficult to hear her own thoughts, “it’s just a long story” she paused, and the woman patiently waited for her to continue, her eyes never leaving her struggling face, “I went to college in New York. I… Well, I am, my family, we are from New York. But I live in the Bay Area now. Have been, for a couple of years.” It felt weird. To just talk about it after refusing to ever open up about it to anyone back home. “It’s my first time back since… well, since… it has been a while. That’s it.” She had left New York City on a warm day in May five years before, to pursue her career in San Francisco. She worked as an editor for a small publishing company. It was a sometimes-hectic job, but she was lucky enough to work in a small team that almost felt like family. Even her boss treated her like some kind of daughter he never had. That’s where she wanted to put down roots. Christmases, Easters, Fourth of Julys. Nothing felt odd or out of place. Nobody made her feel odd or out of place. Somehow for the first time in her life, she had felt like herself. But now here she was. On a frigging plane, 10’000 feet up in the air, moving at approximately 650 mph towards a place that never had her back. And that woman… as comfortable as she made her feel, there was something that unsettled her. Then it hit her.

“It’s weird, somehow… you, you remind me of her. My mother.” It had been a while. Five years to be exact. And although that woman felt nothing like her mother, she looked, indeed, everything like her. The deep hazel eyes, the perfectly manicured hands, the stylish grey bob.

“Oh my…” she quietly chuckled, “how old are you dear?” Again, with her warm hand gently stroking her arm.

“I’m almost 30.”

“That is awfully nice of you to say, but I believe I could be your grandmother.” She wasn’t wrong… but she wasn’t right either. Her mother had had her in her early 40s, which would make her in her late 60s now. If she were still alive. “Are you visiting your parents, then?” she pressed on, still without being any kind of annoying or unsettling.

“You could say that.”

“I can tell you are not very enthusiastic about this trip, dear” The woman grabbed her purse from under her feet and started digging around its contents, “but I’m sure there is something you are looking forward to seeing. New York is such a wonderful city.” She pulled out a small bottle of water. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything stronger.” She chuckled again as if laughing at her own private joke, before handing her the bottle.

She could have told her. As she grabbed the water and thanked her, she weighed the options in her head. She could have told her. That her mother had died only two days before. She could have told her that she was heading to New York for her funeral. She wouldn’t call it home anymore. She wasn’t going home. She was going back to a time and space that hadn’t done her any good. If she told her about all that, she would be opening Pandora’s box. She would have to open her own goddamn box of unresolved feelings. All the dirt she shoved away in a safe keep time capsule. Buried 5 feet deep. Away from prying eyes. Away from make-believe therapist friends and relatives, promising her healing and reconciliation. She packed it all away and left, far away enough for her to start to breathe normally again. Somewhere where she could, for the first time in her life, focus on herself, working on herself, learning to know and love her own forsaken self.

The plane wavered. Lightly at first, but more decisively shortly after. A choir of ohs and ahs filled the already noisy cabin. The captain’s voice added to the cacophony, and her brain dozed off. The turbulences went on for a solid minute, and as people around her braced themselves holding on to their seats, she closed her eyes and let her mind ease on the continuous waves of the bumpy ride. It felt like a dance. A delicate dance slowly shaking her awake. They had left San Francisco by noon, and despite a short delay, the pilot had reassured the passengers they would reach their destination on time. She would be in New York by 8.30 PM. She would be back in New York City by 8.30 PM. Five years had gone by. Five years of growth and evolution. The thought of being back, even if only for a moment, made her unwell. But despite the late-night drinking session from the night before, and her deep loathing for flying, for the first time in what felt like forever, she understood the source of her ailment. Things felt different. Things were different. But the elm trees would still be there. The lively twittering of a warbler. The shrill cry of a baby. The excited bark of a dog. A Labrador maybe. That would be nice. By the time they reached the east coast, the sky had cleared, and the evening sun seeped through the heavy rain clouds. Closing her eyes she could envision the soft green grass, the scent of late spring, the smell of the sun soaking the rocks by the lake. Things were different. But somehow all together still the same. And who she was, what she would be doing, and where she might be going, that was all up to her.