I was nearly there. I was almost home. Reliving my past trauma

BY SIMONE J. SMITH

The drive to the airport was a short one, and the whole time I looked out the window thinking about the last month. As the trees whizzed by me, I thought about Angela and Andrea, and I wondered what they were doing. I had started to build a routine at the prison, and although I was glad to be gone, it still pulled at my heartstrings. How was I ever going to repay them for what they had done for me?

My thoughts were interrupted by the police radio. I realized that we were at the airport, and that was only because I suddenly heard the roar of a plane. The car came to a stop, and the male officer stepped out of the car and headed over to the building we were parked beside. The female officer, who was sitting beside me, got out of the car and walked up to the driver’s side window. After a short exchange, he released the trunk hatch, and took out my luggage.

I sat there, unsure of how to feel, so once again, I numbed myself. I am not too sure where I picked up the ability to do that. I knew it was a defence mechanism, because ordinarily I feel too much, and at times like this, that could be dangerous. I didn’t want these people to see that I was affected by the experience.

The male officer came out of the building with paperwork in his hand. He gestured to the female officer, and she came over and opened my side of the door. “Time to go,” she said. I have to give these officers that, they have been very cordial to me. It was very different from what I had experienced with the Panamanian officers. I stepped out of the car, and they guided me towards the building.

When we got inside, I had to go through another series of questions, and fingerprinting. It didn’t feel as evasive as it had in the past. I tried to ignore the idea that I had adapted to this level of evasiveness, but maybe I had. After they processed my paperwork the officers took me through a door, and we entered the airport.

Like that, I was introduced back into the hustle and bustle of the real world. People were busying themselves with finding their gates, grabbing some last-minute snacks, and trying to get any last minute souvenirs. I walked by taking in all I could: the sights, the sounds. It is funny what you miss when you are not experiencing it on a daily basis.

We reached our gate, and the officers went up to the desk. After a five-minute dialogue, I was escorted into the plane. The male officer took a seat first, and I was told to take a seat (window, yeah) beside the female officer. Within minutes we were in the air, and I was on my way back to North America.

It was a five-hour flight, and for the first hour, I just stared out the window thinking about my parents, and David. I was anxious to see them again, and even though I was heading back, I didn’t know when I would see them. The female officer had taken out some magazines and was reading them. When she finished with one of them, she looked over at me. “Did you want to read some of these?” I looked at her surprised. “Sure, thank you,” I replied. I had not expected that. As I flipped through the magazines, her and I spoke a little. She was very nice and managed to hold her professionalism without making me feel bad about my position.

“We will be preparing for landing …” I heard the pilot speaking over the intercom.

I put on my seatbelt and said a little prayer. I was nearly there. I was almost home.