They won’t hold the job for me. They told me I had to be there on Monday morning at 8am sharp, and the last flight out just got cancelled. I should never have gone out last night. Coming in late threw off my whole schedule. I would have been on the earlier flight, I should have been on the earlier flight.
Oh shit, I left my passport and my purse in the shuttle. This bloody laptop threw me off, and my cell is in my purse too, along with my ID and my ticket.
I stand outside the terminal looking desperately for the return of my stuff. I was sitting in the front seat and my purse is on the floor between the seats. Surely he’s noticed something out of place by now.
The homeland security guard strolls outside from the doors at the center of the building. Excuse me, I say as I start running towards him. He looks directly at me and then his eyes skid from right to left surveying all of the people and objects between us nervously. He’s not very old; it could be his first week on the job.
My left toe hit the seam of the sidewalk and the computer bag flew out of my hand and onto the walkway about 12 feet in front of me. He reached me in seconds, I was still catching my breath and the sobs erupted from somewhere deep inside me.
May I help you m’am he said gently?
I slowly focused on the position of my body and realized I had probably broken a leg, or an ankle at least, and I had no money, no ID, no phone, and no friends in this place.
Even years later, we still recited the story of the day we met to anyone who would listen. We never tired of the romance, the drama, the utter inevitability of our paths colliding on that day.
How will I ever go on without him?
©2010 Sharon J Corrigan