may 5 2025

Flying again. This time in the morning.

Our plane is delayed by 45 minutes and there is a line the length of five streetcars spilling out from the Tim Hortons in front of Gate 37. The Ativan is already knocking me out. I don’t remember boarding. I don’t remember stowing my bag. I don’t remember buckling my seat belt. I leave my mind on the tarmac but I take my heart with me. We take off and the panic is far away. Drowsy, I hook up to the inflight wi-fi immediately. I get a message from John Doe and he tells me that he was touched by my Goodreads review of his new book. I tell him he’s doing a good job. I get a message from a fan, who tells me that his relationship anniversary is also 1/17 and that they both love the new song. I get a message from my agent, more papers to sign, more events to approve, more words to read. I glance over at my lover, my fiancé. He is fast asleep. He always looks so tender with his eyes closed. We fly high and hit a patch of turbulence over the Rockies. I feel my stomach at the back of my throat. My baby feels for me through his closed lids and finds my hand, squeezing tight. It all subsides, the bile and the noise. Everything subsides.