Memories are odd things and flash-backs are even stranger to me. I find that the more I travel, the more it happens. I will walk down a street or through a corridor that seems oddly familiar and suddenly I can see in my mind’s eye, an entire story play out - a story I lived once upon a time. Sometimes I am conscious of it… other times it is there, but less obvious - sort of de' ja vu.
I realized the other day that I have spent a lot of time in the Atlanta airport, more than seems appropriate, seeing as I’ve never lived near Atlanta. On Friday, I was on the escalator, heading to the rental car place when I was suddenly seized with a desire to take off running for gate B12. It took me a second to remember the whole incident, but the memory came back all too vividly. It was the summer of 2007. I had been stuck at the Glynco jetport for hours, thinking I would get stuck there overnight and miss a family celebration back at home. The storms passed and I was able to get the only flight out that day, but was told if was very unlikely that I would make the connecting flight in Atlanta. I was pretty determined to get home that night. I prayed the whole way and ran like the wind through the airport, making record time and arriving at gate B12 just as they were about to close the door. They let me on - I was the last passenger to enter the fully-booked flight.
Upon reaching the lower level, I picked up my pace, quickly walking through the terminal and was suddenly transformed into a 16-year-old girl in a floral and lace dress, carrying a suitcase and a pillow. It was the first time I was striking out on my own - I did not yet own a rolling suitcase, so I was quickly tiring of carrying my heavy baggage, and while excited, was very apprehensive as I tried to figure out the maze that was this massive airport. The tram was being built (or maybe just renovated), so I had to walk the whole way. It took me almost a half hour to walk from one end of the airport to the other (it always seems to work out that my connecting flight are always on the opposite end from the gate where the first plane pulls in - that much has remained the same for me over the years).
This walk through memory lane continued as I followed signs for the exit. I saw shops and kiosks that I remembered seeing through tears that blurred my vision as I had tried to hold back the emotions that choked me only months earlier when I wanted more than anything to return west to the Soldier I had just left - a boy I loved more than life itself and yet wondered if I’d ever see again in this life.
Each memory was so vivid, and yet so different from one another and from this current journey. What does it all mean? Nothing, really. Having been thinking of these times gone by, re-living them, even, I thought I’d write about it because it’s what my mind keeps returning to. Writing helps me put things away on some mental shelf and move on.
