Who said hell was a burning pit below? My hell is suspended ten kilometers above ground. A toddler screams in my arms. “Some passengers are complaining.” The flight attendant looms over me like an ancient curse, condemnation personified. She doesn’t know this is the second leg of our dreadful journey—twenty-two hours in-flight, not counting the transfers. Or that my luggage is filled with pain, guilt and fear. She doesn’t seem to know what it’s like to be a mother. To lose a mother. Like I’m about to. My only hope is that I land in time to say goodbye.
A. Zaykova is a poet, writer, global nomad, and mother of one dragon. She currently lives in Aotearoa New Zealand with her family and cat. Find A. at azaykova.com, on Twitter @allazaykova, and on Instagram @azaykovawriter.