Out in the fields across the street was where I used to lie, alone and eager-eyed, waiting to catch a plane as it flew passed like a gigantic, loud mechanical bird. Sometimes I had wondered if it would land right there in the field, then I would watch as the passengers trickled out and into the long awaiting arms of loved ones. I had smiled to myself, getting light-headed on borrowed happiness. The field had held so much possibilities. And dreams.

As a child, the field had seemed endless.

As a child, the plane had seemed harmless.

I am not a child anymore.

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