Behind Terminal 4

“Did maadar wake-up yet,” I said with a certain heaviness in my chest.

“Yea, khaar! Mom’s awake.” A songbirds feather, my heartbeat fluttered in a summer wind.

A small tear greeted a sigh of long-sought relief. I continued to endure the weight of my belongings walking toward Terminal 4, the carry on straddling my left shoulder digging it’s nylon strapping into my collar bone, rendering each undulation…