Thursday, January 23, 2020

Leaving My Home :: Personal Narrative Traveling Essays

Leaving My Home We finally found gate C-4 after what seemed like an interminably long time. I rejoiced to see the rows of plush cushioned chairs. My aching legs were also thankful after wandering the long cramped halls of O'Hare's bustling airport. Although the halls exuded spaciousness, the throngs of impatient people thwarted any chance for a leisurely stroll. However, I could not concentrate on this scene of busy travelers and cramped corridors. For the airport and my trip to Argentina seemed surreal to me as I dreamed of my dog Max and my bedroom and how long it would be until I saw them again. This after all was just a stop on a busy road to my future. Of all the rows of chairs, we staked out five that were closest to the boarding doors. My parents sat across from me, and observed me like birds that watch their fledgling take its first flight. My sisters Rebecca and Elizabeth sat on either side of me, both filled with the anxious thoughts of a year without a brother and friend. Then it was time for us to wait. At first the comfort of sitting in the cushioned chairs and staring out the large glass windows was enough. I saw the planes make their exits from the sky to come gliding onto the runway. Although made of metal those birds land gracefully. A slight squall from the tires, a bit of smoke, but all in one smooth slip from the sky to skating across the open pavement. They taxi their ways along the integral paths of painted yellow lines. Each one was like an ant moving purposely about its assignment without disturbing its fellow workers. The men and women on the ground crew carefully orchestrated it all with orange batons and walkie-talkies, making sure there is no confusion. The plane returns to its port like a seaman after a long voyage. Their thoughts are only that it's good to be home. The scene soon became monotonous. The planes always nearly landed on the tail of the one just departed. They turned with the same motions following the same paths to yet another loading dock. Even the questions that quarry an observer ran stagnant. Where were all those planes going? It became apparent that they are all on journeys without any final destination. They only hope to get in as many miles as is possible in their lifetimes.

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