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10/27/17

Tough Like Leather ~ Delicate Like Lace


{ 20.05.2017 }

As the plane wobbled like it's flirting with a free fall, and the fluffy cotton out the window turned to masses of ash,
Mom's voice echoed in my head: 
"But that's what they say. People often die close to their birthdays."
she'd tell me like it's an urban myth proven true after one too many obituaries.

This must be it. I'm gonna die today.
Haven't I always thought this is one way I'd go?
Okay, maybe that has a lot to do with LOST.

"Please remain seated, and keep your seat belts...."


I was staring at my palm.
"You won't live a very long life. 30-35, maybe. See?"
an amateur palmist had pointed to my life line that's about an inch point something too short - according to her book.

A few successively jerks, and the eerie sound of metal creaking underneath made me grab both armrests.

I feel cold! I need a blanket!
Coffee. No, tea! No, coffee!
I need a hand to hold!
This. This is why you shouldn't fly solo!
Why is everyone so quiet??!!
Okay. 
It's okay.
Lean back. Close eyes. 
....................
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~ Little hands, cupping my face. ~
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~ An old over-read text message. ~
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~ Watching my Grandfather write letters  at 5 am. ~
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~  A stranger walking towards me. ~
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~  Meredith Grey shouting, "But what about HER?! " ~
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~ A relieved face over my coffin. ~
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Just when my emotions started queuing behind my eyes.....

..... the sunlight hit my face.


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