Soaring high above the clouds somewhere between Pennsylvania and upstate New York. Eagerly peering out the window, watching the ground darken and glisten beneath me as the sun bathes it in a shimmery golden glow. My heart, bursting with glee, excitement and gratitude. My mind counting down the minutes to descent. Enthusiastically eager to firmly plant both feet on Bostonian soil.
A scene, a moment envisioned time and time again. Reality.
Only it’s not my reality.
But, it should be.
And I should be in the air right now Maria, seated between the window and my mother with exactly one hour until our destination is finally reached. I should be seated on that American Airlines flight, excitedly anticipating great things for the following two weeks. Anxious to see loving and familiar faces; to feel them in my very arms.
I spent the past year hopeful, expectant that I would be in attendance of my dear cousins wedding. I never doubted this. Even in the last six weeks, as elation turned into dread; I held onto hope. Everything around me glistened; pointing to a yes. Even during those last weeks were horoscopes painted vivid and accurate pictures, telling tales of travel, emotion and possible long distance romance. Emails began flooding in, exclusive deals for wedding day attire, suitcase sales, flights and car hire. The Universe was saying yes, yes to all I prayed for. And while those messages were delightful, I couldn’t find my way through the fog. I spent my days in a frightful mess, searching, praying for miracles while holding fast to the hope it sent my way.
And despite all the closed doors I encountered, I genuinely felt like a way was being made. That options were being made available to me.
Shapes apparently fusing and binding, creating the picture I dreamt of and yet in reality they physically weren’t.
Because here I am today. It is now Friday morning and I am teary and laden with a heavy heart. No miracle can save me now, no one can. This wedding takes place within seventy-two hours and I am confined to the opposite side of the globe.
Gird by treacherous, dividing seas.
And I can’t understand why?
Why, despite intense efforts on my part, things have not melded as they should? Why wasn’t it made evident to me that this was never, ever going to happen? Or did wishful thinking blind me to harsh truth?
Then, why was I seduced and taunted into thinking so?
Built castles made of sand?
This will be the event of the century; one of a kind in our family, and perhaps the very last I’ll be invited to attend. A celebration for one of the most caring people I know. And here I am, not there but here. Isolated and alone, a seemingly relentless cycle. I am perplexed by it all and incredibly saddened. I’ve gained another brick of regret to carry with me through this wretched life of mine. And added another weave of shame onto that woeful vest I wear. This coming weekend will be incredibly difficult. Seeing all those smiling and joyous faces, videos and details of a night well spent, a blushing bride and her love. All that happiness, unattainable through a screen.
I guess the Universe was correct about one thing. I will be an emotional and sensitive wreak from the 20th onwards.
Yeah, thanks for that.