The day has arrived for my parents to depart on yet another European adventure. And while there is much to carouse, there is much to be dismal about too. Despite the soothing promise of freedom and independence, my traitorous mind focuses on what was foreshadowed.
That dream European vacation I’ve held onto for over two years now, in a single moment all that anticipation and affirmation, paling. All that planning, that constant familiar nostalgia from passing scents and moments and those musical dance tunes that continually transported me to a future I’ve longed for were all fleeting. And now all that elation and confidence is replaced with a familiar kind of despair.
One I’d thought I’d liberated myself from.
I want to revel in this new found freedom, however short lived it may be. I want to embrace the chance for respite within my soul but thoughts of a hot sun and the mix of historic and avant-garde architecture cloud that opportunity.
Everything around me prompts me of the joys of travel.
The sights, smells and sounds.
The paging of staff over the intercom at a supermarket reminds me of those pings on an aircraft, the ones that illuminate announcements like the toilet cubicles are occupied. My Snapchat feed is brimming with travel updates and captured moments of the heavens high above some European coastline and gossamer clouds. And with those pictures I can practically hear the pilots coarse voice paging the attendants, “cabin crew, prepare for landing”.
I can feel those pulls of gravity as the aircraft begins to drop down to earth and hear that high pitched ringing as the wheels unfurl from their resting place amongst the wings. And finally that shaking and all encompassing rattling as the plane finally kisses the ground; one of the most enraged sounds I’ve ever heard.
And though I am completely at liberty here and now, I can’t help but wish for something more. And isn’t that human nature? Never content with what is before us and always pining for what we don’t posses.