The Plane

I don’t remember the exact date. 1971. Summer. I sat in the plane and looked out the window at the mountain. Waited. Thought. Unease. Waited. The plane began to move. The plane was still on the runway, on the ground. Gaining speed but still on the runway. I was still there, still touching. The nose lifted. The center wheels still on the ground. Still touching. Then the plane lifted, It no longer touched the ground. I had left. I knew that I would never be back.

30 August 2021