JFK - 1967

In the plane.
The deep "brrrrrrr."
My knees aching. My mom holding me. Wanting Salonpas.

A long, dull corridor. Everything hard and square and colorless.
My mom, struggling with us 4.
A soldier approaches us. My mom nods.
He carries me in his arms.
I can hear him breathing.
In rhythm to the jostling of his steps.
I wonder if he regretted asking to help?
It was my fault I was too heavy.
Just inches away - a big nose, pink skin. Again.
A strange smell. Milk?

A car.
Bright city lights above.
My Dad driving.
My Dad.

I am all electricity.

I know this is the start of something big.
It's not home.
It's not comfortable.
It's something exciting I can't control.


1 comment:

Julie said...

I wonder if this is how my girls felt when they came to the US. Thank you for sharing.