IAD

Photo by Ina Carolino on Unsplash

My favorite thing about traveling, the thing I have missed so desperately for a long while, is the observation of people being kind for no other reason than our shared humanity. Dulles airport (IAD) is, in my opinion, a soul-sucking place. Yet, even there, kindness happens.

I could be forgiven for the apprehension,

the tension in my throat

that led me to seek a secluded bathroom stall,

pull my mask down and breathe until the world stopped spinning --

After all, they load us on a transport, silently,

that looks like nothing more than the amphibious craft

delivering soldiers to their deaths

on war-torn beaches.

I could be understood for my surprise

at the ordinary kindness of people in a drab space --

we are all going somewhere,

we will get there somehow.

The "After you"s, the "Pardon me"s,

the "May I help you stow your bag?"

The couple in front of me,

adjusting each other's masks in the dim cabin light,

the woman tilts her head onto her sweetheart's shoulder.

He brushes his cheek against the the frosted edges of her hair.