The Poetry Snapshot: Parallel Lines

I sat with the uncertainty of landing to a reality
I’d never seen with my own eyes.
I kept adjusting my economy seat.
I sit with the anxiety of finally returning,
after trying so hard to get back on my feet.

I was once eager to arrive
and dissolve my wistfulness with an embrace.
Now I’m nervous to see the empty space,
only filled with memories I still can’t face.

Back then I wanted the minutes to go by faster.
Folding time to reduce distance and see you again.

Today, I can wait.

I can be slow to get where I’m going
and make the destination farther away.

I am flying the same journey again,
but on parallel lines.

I can’t seem to balance this cheerful anticipation
with my fear of noticing the signs;
that times are different and things have grown
in ways I’m not familiar.
But perhaps returning to change is what I need
to finally get some closure.