My Sam
My Sam
I was shell-shocked. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe. The seconds on the clock overhead seemed to go on for hours in between. I had a pit in my stomach, and I began to sweat. How long must I wait? People walked by, holding carryons and food, laughing, talking, texting, or conversing on phones.
Many different people passed by Gate B13. Businessmen and women, families, old and young couples, young friends, athletic teams, and screaming babies. I sighed and trained my eyes at the gate. 5 minutes, 10 minutes, 15 minutes went by. I went up to the information desk, wiping the sweat off my forehead. The lady looked up and smiled widely.
"How may I help you, sir?" She said in an over-cheerful voice.
"When is Flight 392 arriving?" I asked, exasperated and annoyed.
"I don't know, sir. It appears to be delayed." She said, smiling too widely.
"Can't you call the airport and ask, or something?" I asked, my annoyance and anger rising. Of course this flight was delayed!
"Sir, we can't-" She was interrupted by the telephone next to her.
"Hello?" She answered. "Yes. Ok. Thank you. Bye." She hang up the phone and typed on her keyboard below the desk
A loud bing sounded out over the intercom of Gate B13, and the screen behind her changed. It now said:
"Flight 392- Arrived"
I grinned and left the smiling lady by herself and sat on the window ledge, staring out onto the landing strips. A large jet came around the corner, slowly trudging along, and turned towards the window I was sitting in. My heart jumped and I stoop up quickly. But the plane pulled into the gate to the left: Gate B12. I cussed out loud to myself and felt tears of anger and frustration forming in my eyes. Right when I blinked away the tears, I saw another plane had appeared. Time moved even slower as the plane moved into Gate B13, and I smiled. It was time.
The doors of the gate opened and people began streaming out. I scanned through the crowd of exhausted people. Time went by and I still couldn't find who I was looking for. The last of the people dwindled out, and then it was empty. I sat anxiously. Did he miss the flight?
Right when I was about to give up, one last person appeared. He wheeled himself on a wheelchair. He still had on his army uniform. I cried in happiness and felt the tears flow, this time of joy and love. He saw me and waved to me. I smiled widely and walked slowly to him, and he outstretched his arms. I sat on his lap and hugged him, and didn't let go for a long time.
When I finally let go, I looked into his wonderful face.
"Sam, you're home!" I whispered.
Sam looked at me with those sweet, sweet hazel eyes.
"Of course!" he whispered back. "No war could keep me away from the one I love!"
I leaned forward and kissed him tenderly, not stopping for a long time. Sam had been gone for a couple months, across the ocean in Iraq. When I pulled away, I noticed several people staring, but then something surprised me.
I heard clapping and cheering. People were not only congratulating and honoring Sam's service to the U.S., but for our open and unconditional love. I didn't pay attention much, because all I could think of was my Sam.
"What happened to your legs?' I asked.
Sam's face fell, and I couldn't read his emotions.
"A bomb blew up and a piece of metal stabbed my spine." He sighed. "I knew you would think of it as a problem in more ways than one." He said, scratching his crotch unconsciously.
"No. Sam, I love you the way you are! And if that means you in a wheelchair, than I don't care. Tu eres mi corazon. Tu eres el aqua de mi fuente*." I said tenderly. "And that's not a problem," I said, referencing to his crotch.
Sam looked into my eyes and smiled.
"You and your spanish. Let's get something to e
at. I am starving! All I had was those little preztels!" Sam said, rubbing his stomach and grinning.
He suddenly moved forward, wheelchairing me and him together. I began to laugh and held onto Sam's neck as we wheeled down the terminal.
People clapped along the way, and Sam recieved a ton of grace and thanks.
All that mattered is that my Sam is back.
*You are my heart. You are the water of my fountain.
Many different people passed by Gate B13. Businessmen and women, families, old and young couples, young friends, athletic teams, and screaming babies. I sighed and trained my eyes at the gate. 5 minutes, 10 minutes, 15 minutes went by. I went up to the information desk, wiping the sweat off my forehead. The lady looked up and smiled widely.
"How may I help you, sir?" She said in an over-cheerful voice.
"When is Flight 392 arriving?" I asked, exasperated and annoyed.
"I don't know, sir. It appears to be delayed." She said, smiling too widely.
"Can't you call the airport and ask, or something?" I asked, my annoyance and anger rising. Of course this flight was delayed!
"Sir, we can't-" She was interrupted by the telephone next to her.
"Hello?" She answered. "Yes. Ok. Thank you. Bye." She hang up the phone and typed on her keyboard below the desk
A loud bing sounded out over the intercom of Gate B13, and the screen behind her changed. It now said:
"Flight 392- Arrived"
I grinned and left the smiling lady by herself and sat on the window ledge, staring out onto the landing strips. A large jet came around the corner, slowly trudging along, and turned towards the window I was sitting in. My heart jumped and I stoop up quickly. But the plane pulled into the gate to the left: Gate B12. I cussed out loud to myself and felt tears of anger and frustration forming in my eyes. Right when I blinked away the tears, I saw another plane had appeared. Time moved even slower as the plane moved into Gate B13, and I smiled. It was time.
The doors of the gate opened and people began streaming out. I scanned through the crowd of exhausted people. Time went by and I still couldn't find who I was looking for. The last of the people dwindled out, and then it was empty. I sat anxiously. Did he miss the flight?
Right when I was about to give up, one last person appeared. He wheeled himself on a wheelchair. He still had on his army uniform. I cried in happiness and felt the tears flow, this time of joy and love. He saw me and waved to me. I smiled widely and walked slowly to him, and he outstretched his arms. I sat on his lap and hugged him, and didn't let go for a long time.
When I finally let go, I looked into his wonderful face.
"Sam, you're home!" I whispered.
Sam looked at me with those sweet, sweet hazel eyes.
"Of course!" he whispered back. "No war could keep me away from the one I love!"
I leaned forward and kissed him tenderly, not stopping for a long time. Sam had been gone for a couple months, across the ocean in Iraq. When I pulled away, I noticed several people staring, but then something surprised me.
I heard clapping and cheering. People were not only congratulating and honoring Sam's service to the U.S., but for our open and unconditional love. I didn't pay attention much, because all I could think of was my Sam.
"What happened to your legs?' I asked.
Sam's face fell, and I couldn't read his emotions.
"A bomb blew up and a piece of metal stabbed my spine." He sighed. "I knew you would think of it as a problem in more ways than one." He said, scratching his crotch unconsciously.
"No. Sam, I love you the way you are! And if that means you in a wheelchair, than I don't care. Tu eres mi corazon. Tu eres el aqua de mi fuente*." I said tenderly. "And that's not a problem," I said, referencing to his crotch.
Sam looked into my eyes and smiled.
"You and your spanish. Let's get something to e
at. I am starving! All I had was those little preztels!" Sam said, rubbing his stomach and grinning.
He suddenly moved forward, wheelchairing me and him together. I began to laugh and held onto Sam's neck as we wheeled down the terminal.
People clapped along the way, and Sam recieved a ton of grace and thanks.
All that mattered is that my Sam is back.
*You are my heart. You are the water of my fountain.
♠ ♠ ♠
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