You Never Really Can Fix A Heart
Running Away
"Flight 120 to New York, now boarding." A woman's voice warned the passengers, running around the airport, over the intercom. I sighed and looked down at my ticket. This was my chance. Our chance, to start over, to move on. I swallowed hard then pushed myself up. I looked around me quickly then grabbed hold of the stroller, our bags hanging off the sides if the handles, and did the best job I could getting to the gate.
"Miss?" I heard a deep voice and turned around.
"Yes?" I smiled up at the man in front of me.
"You dropped this." He says handing my me daughters bottle.
"Oh my gosh. Thank you so much. That would have been horrible if I lost it." I take the bottle.
"Yeah, no problem." He's starring at my young children. I turn my head a little tired of people always judging me.
"Well, thanks again, Sir." I say and make me way to the gate. I get situated then take my seat. One right next to an elderly women.
"How old are you?" She asks, a little coldly.
"Uh, I'm nineteen." I tell her.
"What a shame." She says looking at my sleeping two year old, then at my new born.
"Excuse me?" I ask, irritated.
"You're so young to have babies. Even though, she is beautiful." A back-handed compliment. I'm torn with letting her remark go and giving her a piece of my mind.
"Yes, she is." I let it go and look at Aaliyah. She is gorgeous. She is me all over again. My creamy skin, jet black hair. It's all me, the cheek bones, lips, the way she carries herself. The only thing that Aly has gotten from her piece of shit father is her sparkling, clear, green eyes. Which to be honest is hard to deal with sometimes. It's like he's always looking at me when I look into her eyes. I don't blame Aaliyah but those eyes are haunting. I'm glad that this baby boy doesn't have them, although, I won't really know who he looks like for another year or so.
"Where ya goin'?" The lady asks me.
"Anywhere away from here." I tell her. She makes a face so I give her more.
"New York."
"It's pretty there, this time of year, the lights and everything. No place to raise babies though, with all that air pollution."
"Thanks for the information." I smile at her.
"Sure, sure." Is the last thing the woman says to me because for the rest of the flight I pretend to be asleep.
I remember that painful day, the day I left for the second time in my life from what I knew, a little over a year ago like it was yesterday.
"Miss?" I heard a deep voice and turned around.
"Yes?" I smiled up at the man in front of me.
"You dropped this." He says handing my me daughters bottle.
"Oh my gosh. Thank you so much. That would have been horrible if I lost it." I take the bottle.
"Yeah, no problem." He's starring at my young children. I turn my head a little tired of people always judging me.
"Well, thanks again, Sir." I say and make me way to the gate. I get situated then take my seat. One right next to an elderly women.
"How old are you?" She asks, a little coldly.
"Uh, I'm nineteen." I tell her.
"What a shame." She says looking at my sleeping two year old, then at my new born.
"Excuse me?" I ask, irritated.
"You're so young to have babies. Even though, she is beautiful." A back-handed compliment. I'm torn with letting her remark go and giving her a piece of my mind.
"Yes, she is." I let it go and look at Aaliyah. She is gorgeous. She is me all over again. My creamy skin, jet black hair. It's all me, the cheek bones, lips, the way she carries herself. The only thing that Aly has gotten from her piece of shit father is her sparkling, clear, green eyes. Which to be honest is hard to deal with sometimes. It's like he's always looking at me when I look into her eyes. I don't blame Aaliyah but those eyes are haunting. I'm glad that this baby boy doesn't have them, although, I won't really know who he looks like for another year or so.
"Where ya goin'?" The lady asks me.
"Anywhere away from here." I tell her. She makes a face so I give her more.
"New York."
"It's pretty there, this time of year, the lights and everything. No place to raise babies though, with all that air pollution."
"Thanks for the information." I smile at her.
"Sure, sure." Is the last thing the woman says to me because for the rest of the flight I pretend to be asleep.
I remember that painful day, the day I left for the second time in my life from what I knew, a little over a year ago like it was yesterday.