The Space Between Hearts

Angela Fritz

I will think about you every day

So, my lips will never forget your name.

Today, I thought of the way your eyes crinkle into tiny crescents

Like the moon when you smile a smile so warm

It's as if I could fall into the billowing arms of the sun. I could never settle to be at Aphelion with you, No matter which part of the universe I’ve come from.

And when you doubt what I’ve written here

I will whisper these words

Until they echo between the stars and find you. Even in your deepest of slumbers, You won’t be able to deny my honesty. And even among the quietest of whispers, I will continue to say your name.

I Always Looked Back Stephany Luithly

On my first date with my now-husband, we talked about mostly cliché topics, but when we got to the topic of travel, he told me he’d only been on one trip where he took an airplane to and from his destination. I almost did a spit take with the beer I had just taken a drink of. Not because I thought it was funny, I was just surprised by that answer. To be truthful, I wouldn’t be able to count the number of flights I’ve taken in my life. I know I took my first flight as an “unaccompanied minor” when I was seven years old. This was less than a year after we had moved back to Cheyenne while Dad stayed down south.

That first trip was much different than it is now in an airport. It was more than two years before the tragedy of the towers falling in New York happened on September 11, 2001, so there was much less security when getting onto a plane. There was virtually no wait. Imagine going to a sporting event in the city—they quickly look through your bag and you walk under a detector, but that was really it. That day, my brother, Jeremy, Mom, and I walked through the Denver airport quickly until we saw a TCBY frozen yogurt shop.

“Mom! Can we stop?!” I pleaded as if she had already turned it down. But she didn’t say no. She showed what I now recognize as her pretend smile and nodded yes. Jeremy and I were throughthe-roof excited. When we both had gotten our decadent cones, we walked for what felt like forever to some seats. Mom had led us to the gate we’d be flying out of. With unaccompanied minor travelers, it’s required for an adult to present the passengers and sign some paperwork after the passengers have been asked about where they are going and who will be there to pick them up.

“Our dad is gonna be there,” Jeremy matter-of-factly answered. I looked up at Mom as we walked away from the podium, and she was on the verge of crying. Even my seven-year-old self could tell by the way her chin was set a little closer to her lips.

“Why are you sad, Mom?”

She looked down at me and shook her head like she was trying to move the tears out of her eyes like she does with her blonde, sideswept bangs. “I’m just going to miss you guys! Summer is a long time when I don’t get to see you every day.” Jeremy patted Mom’s arm in the most endearing way a nine-year-old can and nodded in understanding. Me on the other hand? I was trying to choke back the feeling of my throat tightening and my own eyes filling up with tears. I’ve always been the kind to cry when I see other people cry, and I’m sure that was part of it, but I also think that was the first moment I had realized that Mom wouldn’t be coming with us. And if you were to ask anyone who knows me, even today, they would tell you I’m a big fan of Moms.

“Oh honey, don’t cry! You’re gonna make me cry now,” Mom whispered as she leaned down to get to my level. She put her hands on my elbows and squeezed just enough to get me to look at her. “You’re going to have so much fun! You get to go on an airplane with your brother and then you get to go back to Georgia!” She took a breath (I now know it was to choke down the disdain she felt for her ex-husband), and continued quietly, “You get to see your dad.” Just as she finished the sentence, the flight attendant who smelled like too many roses came over to interrupt and said, “You both get to come down with me first before everyone else.” Her tone was straining to sound excited to be the one who was chosen for the job.

“Okay,” Mom spat out, “both of you give me a hug and make sure you call me when you get with your dad. I love you!” She squeezed Jeremy and me like she was trying to imprint the feeling of her arms into our bodies and then stood up and tapped our backs in the direction of the less-than-thrilled woman.

As we walked through the silver door, into the long tube connected to the plane, I looked over my left shoulder and waved to my mom who was very obviously not trying to shake her tears away now. The lady was talking, but I didn’t hear her, I just made eye contact with Jeremy and then looked down at my feet, walking away from Mom toward an airplane cabin, for the first, but definitely not the last time.