Gone

I wake at 6am, and watch my mother get stressed.
Get my bags together, and all our boxes.
Load our car, and a friend's car.
Drive through a deary morning, past the the fields of palms.

I will not see these roads, or these palm trees, for a long time.
I am passing out of this world and into another.
And few people will even notice.
I'm just another person lining up to weigh luggage.

Hugs and waves, eyes shining with tears.
Sighs, and handshakes, and farewell notes.
More hugs and then a slow walk through gates.
I don't look forward, I look over my shoulder, at people I love.

The doors close and that life is behind me.
I'm just another passenger on a plane,
Trying to forget my home and get some sleep.
But no, sleep does not come, nor is it meant to.

An infinity of time later, I feel the wheels hit the runway.
I smell the fresh air, I here the familiar accents.
I love it, but I hate it.
But that is how it is when you are gone.