The wheels on American Airlines Flight 6404 gracefully departed the runway, and our plane rapidly ascended into the sky on the path towards home. Always a bit of a nervous flier, I tried my best to relax and breathe while our aircraft climbed ever higher. I leaned my head against my seat and decided to focus my mind on the wonderful memories of the previous two weeks.
Still ascending, our pilot banked a left turn. Mr. C quickly turned my attention to the window where I caught sight of the massive Forth bridges rising out of the water below. The floodgates opened as the realization set in that I was no longer in Scotland.
I stink when it comes to goodbyes. It makes no difference if the thing I’m goodbye-ing is a person or a place. My eyes will inevitably leak. And, of course, my cry is never a dainty, pretty cry. It’s quite the opposite. As someone who usually keeps her emotions in check, this snotty outburst always renders me red, puffy, and embarrassed. My tears on the flight that day were no exception.
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