That Look

In hindsight, I should have known.

The signs were there, I just didn't see them. I couldn't see them.

It should have been so obvious, like a trail of bread crumbs in the forest.

But it wasn't, not for me at least.

There I was, approaching the airport.

I was so excited.

In just a few short hours, I would see her again.

To hold her hand. To hear her laugh. To feel her warm hands upon my face.

Though I'd only been gone for three weeks, I missed her something crazy.

It bordered on unhealthy.

Like an addict, I needed her.

I'd had a good trip and enjoyed my time away, Papers signed, meetings attended, dinners eaten, and yet, I just couldn't wait to return.

To her.

When busy, it had been easy. Mind occupied, tasks to do, places to go.

But, in the slower moments, the down time on the bus, waiting in lines, simmering in a bath, trying to fall asleep, my thoughts invariably drifted back to her.

Always her.

Like she was living inside the recesses of my brain.

Was she?

As I waited for my row to be called, I sat there among the sea of strangers and I longed to see her again. The others probably had love to go back to, but it could never be like ours. Ours was a young love, full of flights of fancy and lazy Sundays and late night Scrabble games.

I ached to be with her.

While being away was so so hard, it was an amazing feeling to be so excited.

"You're lucky," a friend told me while away "life is rarely full of excitement like this."

True, I was lucky.

How rarely had I ever felt this level and intensity of excitement and I savoured the minutes as they counted down until our reunion.

Take off.

Ears popping.

Her.

Guy in the seat in front reclines too far.

Her.

Dry throat and head aches.

Her.

Being together again. It would be so wonderful.

My skin tingled each time I closed my eyes, and I was instantly transported to her side.

Goosebumps.

Our future together.

Marriage, the honeymoon of our dreams and then kids. The world would be ours.

I could picture it now as I sat on that plane bringing me home, back to her, back to us, back to all of the things I loved and adored about her.

Like a scene in a movie it would be. Couples and families hugging and screaming with joy all around us as I strode confidently, like a general returning victorious from battle, through the silent masses, in slow motion towards her, this dazzling beauty. 

She was mine.

Smile.

And then, after a moment's pause, we'd kiss this long, passionate kiss oblivious to all and everything around us. It would all melt away, leaving only us, the only two beings, forever connected.

And then, the plane landed.

Home.

Could our love bend time and space?

I gathered my stuff, walked off the plane and rewinded and replayed my lines in the dialogue between us that I'd been rehearsing for days.

The airport was bustling and it was if the others around me were also in on it, extras in my low-budget film.

I wanted to share my excitement with them, with anyone, like a puppy who smells a treat.

The passport agent asked how I was and I answered "great" a little too enthusiastically and was met with a smile that seemed slightly concerned.

My heart was pounding as I rode the final escalator towards the arrivals area. It was if I was about to perform in front of a huge audience, take a final free throw, line up a million dollar putt.

I was ready. To see her.

I rounded the final bend. My heart was practicing aerobics, my skin was barely holding on as the tidewaters rose within, my brain was considering taking stress leave.

There she was.

How I had dreamed of this moment, and I couldn't believe it was now.

She was looking down at the ground waiting when I first spotted her; her hair perfect as always, wearing her favourite shoes.

Mentally capturing the moment as a photograph, I paused, and then continued towards her.

Then her head arose, as if she sensed my presence from afar.

Our eyes met.

And I saw that look.

I knew it was all over.