Boston

Today I sat in the Texas Stadium Skybox and drank whiskey sours next to an overly familiar ex-Marine waiting for a standby flight to Dayton, Ohio. I had an hour to kill before my flight to Boston, and my choice to indulge in overpriced alcoholic beverages proved to be a good one when I boarded the plane and saw that seat 30E was occupied with a toddler with a broken leg. I took my window seat and briefly thought about my second semester of eighth grade French class. Julian, the boy who sat next to me all year, broke his arm over winter break and spent most of class trying to scratch his arm by shoving a ruler in his cast.

Sleeping through a time zone, I woke up as the plane was descending over the city. It was already all lit up at 5:30pm, and I pressed my face to the window like a child, trying desperately to find my home or a landmark that looked familiar from so high up. I tried to look for the Prudential building because that's like the Northern Star of Boston--that's how Rik and I got home two summers ago when we decided to walk from Somerville to downtown one night, taking only streets we didn't know--but I couldn't see it from my angle. It was difficult to untangle all the highways filled with headlights and I was groggy from sleep and maybe still a little drunk--I hadn't had anything to eat except a disappointing sandwich that I couldn't even finish, that's how bad it was--and before I knew it things got a little clearer, closer and we had landed, but boy, was it a sight to see.

I'm back now, in my bed, heat on low. I miss my family already and feel terrible that my mother and I are always so awful to each other when I'm Leaving. My flights are always so early, inevitably putting me in a bad mood in the car on the way to the airport and my mother doesn't do well with big and vague events like Leaving so her awkward habits are in full force. And those habits, like how she narrates everything that she is doing and all of the things that we pass (I can't really see, is that Campbell up ahead? Oh, no, it's just Park, we still have another block. Oh, there it is. I'm going to just turn right here. Hey I didn't know they put a Safeway here. It must be new.), her tendency to tailgate sometimes and her worrying (Do you have your ID? Do you have enough cash for a cab home? Your bag is really heavy, it might be too difficult to take the train, you should just take a cab. I hope security isn't a pain this time), which I usually find fairly endearing, just grate and I'm short with her and she gets angry and it's awful. I fly all the way back feeling guilty and tired, and when I land, I call her to tell her I'm home safe, that I'm sorry, that I love her.