A Run by the River

After speaking a few minutes with his wife, John debated how he would spend the next hour and a half waiting for his flight.  He could work on the communication plan for the client.  He could read the new Stephen King.  Or, he could sleep.  What was new?  It was the standard list of choices.

John looked at the Delta gate attendants.  He knew their names: Sam and Lisa.  Sam had worked this gate for three years, Lisa two.  In an hour and a half, he would board a Boeing 757.  He knew the attendants’ names on Flight 034, and they knew his.  It was always the same, all the time.

John picked up the communication plan, then immediately tossed it aside.  Everything felt so repetitive.  So qualified.  Why was he feeling this way?  John decided to sleep instead.  In business, this is known as work-life balance, he thought.

He set his mobile phone alarm for 30 minutes, slouched in his seat, and drifted off to another place --

John felt alive again.  He had returned to Stradford University, his alma mater.  He was running steadily in a group.  And it felt right as the wind brushed against his back.  John could feel the warmth of the sun on his head and smell the sweat dripping down his face.  It felt great to be alive again.

There was the shirtless runner, ten to fifteen yards ahead of everyone.  John started plotting but forced himself to stop thinking.  Don’t think, only react.   He must catch the runner ahead, but how could he do it?  He felt himself emerge from the pack of runners around him.  He would make his move and catch the runner once and for all.  His strides grew in length and his heart beat faster, but the runner maintained the standard lead distance.  He wasn’t sure he could catch him.

 John turned around and saw the pack yards behind him.  He glanced ahead, and the runner was gone.  Where did the shirtless runner go?  He would figure this --  Why is my leg vibrating?

John slapped his pants pocket a few times before completely awaking.  His mobile phone didn’t seem to mind...it continued massaging his leg with methodical vibrations.  John turned the alarm off and tilted his head back.  That always managed to be the shortest 30 minutes in his life.

He glanced around the airport.  Only one hour until his flight.  He didn’t really mind the flying...it was the waiting that annoyed him.  He found himself people-watching on such occasions, and the carnival of airport characters never ceased to amaze him.  That was, never ceased to amaze him until today. 

At 6:37 P.M. in the Newark Airport, Jonathan Meyer’s heart literally stopped beating for a brief moment.  He caught a mere glimpse...but a perfectly clear and unquestionable glimpse...of the woman that once had changed everything for him.  I haven’t seen her in -- twenty years.  John’s mind went racing, and he returned to college.  There, he felt alive again --