The Final Journey
(an old woman, a chair, an airport)
Her hand gripped the handle of her cane tightly as she hobbled through the crowd, with slow tentative steps. She struggled to keep her balance as people brushed past her, never really seeing her as they raced by, their minds intent on catching a plane, or meeting family, or being the first at the baggage claim.The old woman was long past rushing. Her gnarled hand on the cane told everyone, she would never run again, never race here and there. Her time for slowness had come, forced reluctantly on her. She sighed with frustration, as two little girls raced past her, an anxious mother rushing to keep sight of them. Suddenly, she was jossled as a young man bumped into her. She gripped her cane even tighter as she struggled to keep upright. Fortunately, he had the good sense to grip her arms, steadying her. Apologizing, he looked at her briefly. Then, seeing that she was fine, he rushed on, without another thought. “Young man, indeed,” she mumbled. “He must be nearly 40.” A sudden weariness came over her. She was tired, so very tired. She looked about and saw a lone chair, set against the wall. “That’s odd,” she thought. Most airport chairs were lined in rows, hard plastic seats ungiving beneath old bones. This chair sat alone, separate. The seat and back were thickly padded, but covered with the ever-present airport vinyl. Slowly she made her way over to the chair, and sank down greatfully. People continued to rush past her, unseeing of anything but their destination. She wondered where they were all going to, why must the whole world rush by, unaware of how quickly life passes. In her mind, she could still see herself as a young girl. She smiled slightly as she remember the feel of the river water closing about her, as she dived from the dock. She saw herself at her first dance, oh so shy and tentative. So very frightened that no one would ask her to dance, only to be overwelmed by the number of boys who came to her. She closed her eyes, and remembered her wedding day...how very nervous she had been as she walked down the aisle. Nervous, yet with strong steady steps, walking toward the one she loved, placing her hand in his, and feeling his hand close firmly around hers, and seeing the love his eyes. He had been so good to her. And then there had been the babies. She remembered the day each of them had been born. She remembered the feel of their mouths, sucking hard on her breasts a fine sheen of sweat on their heads from the effort, the feel of soft arms around her neck, and the wonderfully heavy weight of a child sleeping in her arms. She opened her eyes again, and let the people rush past her in a blur, as she focused on her memories. How quickly the children had grown. How quickly they passed from babies into childhood. How she used to love to run and play with them, chasing butterflies, accepting hastily bundled bouquets of dandilions, and hearing their laughter as she tickled them. She shook her head slowly. Where had the time gone? So quickly, they were grown, married, and busy with lives of their own. She treasured the times the family came together. The joyous times of holidays, marriages, and births. And the sad times of funerals...so many over the years. She felt a tear trickle down her cheek as she thought of his funeral. How lost she had been, but so much love had surrounded her as her children gathered with her, sharing their grief, sharing their strength. Then there were the lonely years. Lonely, but busy. She remembered the trips she had taken, visiting her children, friends, relatives, or simply travelling to some place just because she wished to see it. That was why she sat in the airport today, resting in her long walk to the gate. This was to be her final trip. She was going home. Going back to the town of her childhood. She longed to see the house where she had lived. She longed to smell the slightly fishy smell of the river, to see the boats cruising past, and hear the laughter of children as they swam or fished. She knew this was her final trip. After this, she would have no more strength for it. Even now, exhausted by the distance she’d walked and daunted by the distance yet to go, she wondered if she had the strength for this trip. Yes, this would be her final journey. She sighed deeply, as she watch the people rush past her. She really must get up, get going, or she’d miss the plane for sure. Yet she continued to sit there, watching, remembering. She felt almost invisible, as they raced by. No one noticed her. No one caught her eye and smiled. No one saw her hand slip slowly from her lap. No one saw her head lean back to be gently cradled by the hard wall behind her. No one saw her eyes blink, and then slowly close. And no one saw the serene smile that crossed her face, just as she realized that this was, indeed, her final journey.
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