rain glazes the tall windows, a lane of planes outside washed to a sheen.
Three hours in we begin to look alike–sweatshirts, nylon packs, thick-soled sneakers, flip flops,
some in short-shorts.
The young woman next to me asks where I’m from. Her three-year old son is anxious,
won’t sleep. Any advice? You look like a mother.
Eight of us seated together share names. Stories.
Six hours in. A storm slashes the tarmac, we become amateur weathermen,
pass photos of children and grandchildren. Judy from Brooklyn, teary–
she’s just placed her mother in a nursing home.
Hour nine. Bonded by nature. The crew has timed out, an agent: thank you
for your patience. We’re not.
The man with a white beard, cinched every few inches with bright ponytail holders, talks about
his son. Rehab. We quiet. Nod.
Hour ten. A crew arrives, we cheer. On the plane I search for a word
to describe liftoff–the shimmying vibration. A roar that excites, frightens.
I search for a word to describe affection for strangers lashed together by storm.
Deplaning. Two a.m. I pass Judy from Brooklyn, touch her shoulder, wish her well.
Reach for my bag.
About the author:
Kathleen Goldblatt (she/her/hers) is the author of Our Ghosts Wait Patiently (Finishing Line Press.) Her poems have appeared in The Comstock Review, Amethyst, The Healing Muse, Psychological Perspectives and The San Antonio Review among others. She reflects on poetry during walks with her dog, Archie, who never tires of listening. Kathleen loves the sea and feels lucky to live in Rhode Island, the Ocean State. She is a social worker, mental illness advocate and Jungian psychoanalyst. www.kathleengoldblatt.com @kathleengoldblatt kmgoldblatt@gmail.com

Part of our Winter 2026 Issue. New stories, poems, and essays now through January 31, 2026.
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