Coming in to land

A bell like sound wakes me. My throat’s dry from the recycled air so I pull my bottle of Evian from the elasticated mesh attached to the seat in front of me and drink. As I suckle at the sports cap I notice that the seatbelt signs are lit. The plane banks a little and I realise that we’re coming round to land. I raise the plastic blind, and press my nose to the cool glass. A golf course archipelago passes below us, crosshatch fields, then come the houses.  A Richard Scarry town, brightly coloured and wooden. Finally the buildings give way to what looks like moorland as we descend on Keflavik, a short trip from here to Reykjavik. Journey’s end, and it had been some journey. The flight itself was only three hours but my journey started twenty three years ago.

 The flight attendant bustles past checking that all our trays are in the upright position and belts fastened. She flashes me a smile as she passes and her hand alights on my shoulder. As she leans in, a look of concern on her face, the sweetness of her perfume mingles with the stale coffee and mint on her breath. ‘Is everything ok?’ I just look back at her, confused. She tries again. ‘You’re crying, I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.’ I touch my face not quite comprehending and my fingers come away wet.

‘I’ll be fine.’ I mutter, ‘it’s been a long week.’ She nods in tacit understanding.

‘We need to buckle in for landing now but if I can get you anything when we’re down…’ She lets the offer hang. I smile, thank her and return my attention to the window. It’s just as Dad had described it. As I stare at the rocky coast below a shudder runs through the aircraft. The landing gear is going down. My ears pop in spite of the boiled sweet I’ve worried to a razor sharp edge.

As the ground gets closer it seems to move faster. Dad would have used that as a metaphor for life. He would have told me that I spent too much time above the clouds looking down. That even though life goes quicker on the ground, close to people,  that’s where you have to be to get the most from it.  The engine noise increases and I feel the nose of the plane lift slightly. The background conversation is stopped as collectively we hold our breath for…there. The bump of the wheels tells us that we are safe this time. The engines scream as they go into reverse and we coast to the terminal. The clicking of a hundred belt buckles heralds the planes arrival. 

I hold tightly to the cold metal of the stair railing with one hand. With the other I grip my rucksack. As I reach the ground I hoist it up and fold the now familiar shape of the urn inside into my arms. ‘We’re on the ground now Dad.’ I whisper, ‘You’re home.’