Tomorrow I will board an airplane to leave my home in California for school in the frosted state of Ohio.
I still haven’t packed my bags—no surprise there, really—and have more things to do than I could ever do in one day. I’ve woken up with a “To Do” List in my head and have tried just about everything to get it out so that my heart stops racing and my nerves subside.
Having done this many times before, however, I know that somehow everything will get done. My parents, still in possession of good sense and calm nerves, will help me make sure that all of the important things get done and point out that everything else can remain as it is.
Tomorrow, early in the morning, while even our dogs are still curled tightly asleep, my parents will drive me to the airport.
When I was a child, I loved airports. I only passed through them when our family went on vacations, so they always signaled that freedom to me, the easy air of summertime with the few responsibilities of childhood balanced lightly on my shoulders.
As I grew up, though, a few things changed. The first was the September 11 attack on the World Trade Center in New York City.
Among the many things that changed after that tragedy was, rightfully, airport security. Ever since then, though, the color-coded “terror alert system” has been on orange, or “high.”
I’ve become fairly efficient at the security checkpoint, taking off my shoes, my jacket, my laptop out of my bag, all while standing and moving through the line.
The other thing that has changed since I was a kid, though, is that I rarely travel for pleasure anymore. Now it’s usually back and forth to school and I’m always alone.
I’ve gotten used to that, too, but only just.
What really gets to me about airports these days is that I’m consistently acutely aware that I’m leaving someone. For the most part, there is someone else waiting for me at the other end, whether friends or family, but as I stand in one or all of the various lines at the airport, I’m always focused on the departure.
Like just about everyone I’ve ever met, I hate saying goodbye. Even when I know I will be back soon, the act of leaving does not always sit right.
Of course, I will have little time to think of all of this tomorrow night when I finally land in Cleveland, Ohio. I will have wonderful friends I haven’t seen in six months coming to pick me up, but I imagine most of my energy and attention will be finally focused on just staying warm.
BY MONA MORARU, FROM USA
