I get home
As I sit here in a generic airport seat, overlooking the sunbleached tarmac of Doha International, as planes come and go into the hazy blue sky and shimmering heat, I don’t think things have really sunk in yet. Nothing quite seems real, like I’m stuck in a dreamland. And to tell you the truth, at times I don’t even know how or what I’m feeling, or if I’m even feeling anything at all. I thought I’d be a barrel of emotions, bubbling over, but I feel like I’m in a trance, daydreaming and sleepwalking to Heathrow.
But then, at other times, the realization dawns on me. It sinks in that I came to the end of the trip. It sinks in that I had already left Africa, Britain, and in a few hours away. Suddenly, cold hands cold of my heart, and the node tries to tear the stomach in two, as my body began to tremble, and my heat beats faster.
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Submited at Sunday, September 25th, 2011 at 6:00 pm on Middle East by hilman
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