Crossing the pond
“Flight DY7103 to Stockholm will be boarding 15 minutes early”
Oh crap, I thought to myself while simultaneously scarfing down the last of my cheeseburger and long island. I catch my hands shaking a little, my mind getting ready for the 10.5 hour flight over the ocean, the thought of which I am not to fond of.
My mind begins to race as I approach the ticket counter. Happiness, I keep repeating over and over, you are chasing happiness; you deserve this, smile a little. His face appears in my mind quickly, and then my subconscious seems to weed it out pretty fast and throw it overboard. I chuckled a little at the thought that I almost purchased him a ticket. How funny would a 10.5 full flight be with an ex-husband? Not very funny is the answer, but I still had a laugh none the less.
The speed of my pulse began to increase as I walked down the hallway to the entrance of the plane. I had recently discovered that somehow my body still worked properly and was functional, even after the loss of my heart, which by the way absolutely sucked. I had adapted to the new “heartless” life and it seemed to be working for me, I mean just the other day I didn’t hold the door open for the old lady who was struggling to make it in from the parking lot.
Joke. That was a joke. Jesus, I was heartless, but I was still human. Anyways, I was thrilled to finally make it to my seat, the 3 glasses of wine, 1 pint of beer and long island had me speaking Swedish already and the wheels of the plane were still on the ground. The even more thrilling part was that the seat between me and the person sitting near the isle was empty, allowing me to stretch out my copious amount of legs and lay back and enjoy.
At least I was supposed to enjoy. Along with becoming a fluent Swedish speaker already (or so I though) the booze had my mind wandering. Happiness. The word flashed across my mind again, but this time, it stayed. Images begin popping up, all the things that have made me happy over the course of my life; The summer I turned 16 and my dad made me rotate all 4 of my tires AND change my own oil before the car left the drive way, the day of my high school graduation when Ellie May and I snapped the best photo, one I still carry with me everywhere now that she has crossed the rainbow bridge.
20–30 minutes seem to go by and hundreds of images must have come and gone. A permanent smile had my cheeks starting to cramp and I seemed to snap out of my daze I had been caught in. Man, what a life, a beautiful life I said to myself. For the first time, I embraced the crazy, broken, eventful life that I had replayed in my mind. And here I am, I thought to myself, on the next plane to Stockholm Sweden, a trip I had never dreamed possible.
It then and there that I realized I had already figured happiness out, now I just had to live it. And for the next 10.5 hours on a flight across the pond, I planned on how to do just exactly that.
