Often, in the hectic life, the temporal space of an airplane flight leads you to reflect

Take Off, the commander communicated, while the plane lazily climbed, in spite of the physics, towards the assigned altitude.

I had by now printed the internal movements of the staff in my mind, every word communicated, every prohibition and every advice.

The moment of take-off is like those decisions taken, considered, absolute, towards which you decide not to go back.

The umpteenth plane, for the umpteenth destination, for the umpteenth commitment, for the umpteenth act aimed at postponing that introspective visit of which I feel the urgency.

The plane turned, up to cruising altitude, illuminated by a bright sun, making the whole world below clear and orderly.

Take Off said the captain and almost immediately I began the parallelism between us, made of distances, rapprochements and restarts.

I still have in my ears the echo of your words that marked, with measured resignation, almost as if it were a final cry, the contribution that I have given to us, through my work commitment, made up only of superfluous things and far from your needs and aspirations.

My absence weighs on you and, now, the absolute consideration of the priorities of my career, you can no longer bear it.

I feel you inside me, I hear the silent cry that comes from your eyes, but I'm afraid to make final decisions, because I'm not sure everything could come back like before.

I am confused, after years of chasing my career I realize that, diametrically, in opposition, I have created a rift between us.

The small trolley pushed by the hostess approaches rattling between the seats, carrying bottles and jugs through an unstable balance.

I'm not thirsty, I'm not hungry, I only think of you, I think of us.

Maybe it's not the radical choices to bring us closer that I put on your plate, or the bitter medicine you want me to drink, maybe it's the small, slow but constant steps that can push me out of this vortex, a world that no longer belongs to me.

I see along the corridor a child hesitating in his footsteps, encouraged by his mother who accompanies him by the hand towards the bottom of the plane.

When he comes towards me he smiles at me, I think he meant that, perhaps, one step too, even if uncertain, would be worth taking, first that regrets can nail me to these seats.

And at that moment, the commander announced to the crew to prepare for landing, automatically I fastened my belt, but that clack had a different sound , perhaps further away than usual.

The croaking voice announced landing, making me think of you with a new smile.

Automatic translation. We apologize for any inaccuracies. Original article in Italian.