Departures and Arrivals

There is no place where I feel more alone, more lost, more
in
transit.
People gather, sit, talk loudly on the phone, stare silently at books and laptops.
New people come, striding the long steps of one who is almost home, shuffling the tired steps of one whose journey has been long, start-stopping as one who doesn't know where to find baggage claim.
As if the Spokane International Airport was that big.

There is no place were I feel more comfortable, more brave, more
in
motion.
I walk off the plane, past the people gathered, sitting, talking, staring.
I feel like a new person, striding the long steps of she who is almost home, who knows exactly where her tired but patient dad is waiting, who can predict exactly which carousel will hold her baggage.
As if the Portland International Airport was a part of me.