October 12, 2011
Stomach in my throat as we plummet 300 miles per hour, screaming and crying and wondering if just maybe we are dreaming. I pinch myself on the arm and realize just how true it really is. The hair on the back of my neck elevates and I look around at faces I cannot recognize, and I wonder who I would call if only it were OK to use my cell phone. Would it be cruel to let you hear the end of hope? Or would one final goodbye be a fitting end to my time on this earth of ours?