Night Flight*

Theme: My First Memory

I was on a plane and it was dark in the cabin. I remember the intermittent sounds of snoring from other passengers asleep nearby. I remember being curled up on my mother’s lap, nose buried in the sweet warmth of her scent, feeling a little afraid, a little apprehensive. The plane was vibrating a little more than usual as gusts of wind buffeted against the hull. It was mid-winter, and we were flying wide circles over Chicago, waiting for the all clear to land.

I was a little more than 18-months old, and on a journey to see my daddy for the first time. We were on a connecting flight from LA, but it was just a part of a much longer flight from Malaysia. Daddy had the opportunity to study abroad just after about 6 months I was born. Mummy and I had to stay behind while matters were arranged so that we could join him in the US.

Finally, at the end of what seemed an eternity, the plane landed, and we were allowed to disembark. A while later, after a blur of activities too vague for me to remember, my mother, carrying me, suddenly broke into a small run and in the next instant we were engulfed in a great big bear of a hug. I began to cry, and seeing my mother crying too certainly didn’t help matters. So I went ahead and cried louder.

Then this wholly unfamiliar person gently took me away from Mummy and I squirmed to go back to her. Who was this strange man? Why was he making my mother cry? Why was he holding me so close…. And wait; now he’s speaking. And I remembered that voice. A voice I’ve heard from a long time ago.

Daddy.

I do know this person. I began to calm down, and then we were walking out of the airport.

The first thing I remembered about the USA was the snow that greeted us as we stepped outside. There was so much snow. Flurries of white flakes, falling down from the black canvas of night; beautiful, unearthly and very cold. But then I had nothing to worry about anymore. I now have Daddy to keep me warm…