Departure

“We’re late!”

Nicole’s voice echoed through the house as she darted from room to room, her mom trailing behind her with a frazzled expression. Her mom scooped up the plane tickets from the kitchen counter, shoving them into her purse as they rushed out the door. Nicole’s dad was already waiting in the car, engine running, his hands gripping the steering wheel with a calm determination. The morning sun cast a golden glow over the driveway, but the mood was anything but serene. Nicole’s parents had been divorced for a little over a year now, and though things were still awkward between them, they had come together for this moment—their only child leaving for college.

Nicole slid into the backseat, her pink backpack clutched tightly in her arms. She pulled out her boarding passes, checking them for what felt like the hundredth time. Her mom climbed into the passenger seat, already launching into a story about Nicole’s first day of kindergarten. “You were so brave, you know? You didn’t even cry when I dropped you off. You just waved and said, ‘Bye, Mommy!’ like it was no big deal.” Nicole sighed, her anxiety bubbling over. “Mom, can you not? I’m trying to make sure I didn’t forget anything.” Her mom fell silent, but Nicole could see her reflection in the rearview mirror, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Her dad, ever the quiet one, kept his eyes on the road, a small, proud smile playing on his lips. Nicole caught his gaze in the mirror and felt a pang of guilt. She had been mad at him all summer for moving on so quickly with his new wife, and mad at her mom for being so overbearing. But now, as the airport loomed closer, all that anger felt trivial. She was about to leave them both behind, and the weight of that realization was starting to crush her.

At the airport, they navigated the security checkpoints with practiced ease. Nicole’s mom fussed over her carry-on, making sure she had her snacks and a water bottle, while her dad stood back, watching with that same quiet pride. They found their way to the gate, where Nicole’s mom immediately started crying. “I just can’t believe my baby is leaving,” she said, clutching Nicole’s hand. Nicole rolled her eyes, but her heart wasn’t in it. “Okay, Mom,” she said softly, her voice cracking.

The gate agent announced the start of boarding, and Nicole’s stomach churned. First, they called for military personnel and those needing assistance, then Group 1. Nicole was in Group 2, and as the minutes ticked by, her anxiety grew. When they finally called her group, she stood up, her legs feeling like jelly. She turned to her parents, and for the first time, she really looked at them—her dad’s graying hair, her mom’s tear-streaked face. All the anger and frustration she had been holding onto melted away, replaced by an overwhelming love and gratitude.

She hugged her dad first, and he held her tight, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “I love you, kiddo. I’m so proud of you.” Nicole nodded, unable to speak. When she turned to her mom, the floodgates opened. Her mom was already sobbing, and Nicole felt the tears spill over as they embraced. “I love you so much,” her mom whispered. “Call me as soon as you land, okay?” Nicole nodded, her throat too tight to form words.

She grabbed her backpack and tickets, stepping into the line with trembling hands. The tears came freely now, and she fought the urge to turn back, to run into her dad’s arms and tell them she wasn’t ready. But she kept moving forward, her legs feeling like they were made of concrete. At the front of the line, the ticket attendant gave her a kind smile. “Headed to college?” she asked gently. Nicole nodded, and the woman’s smile widened. “You’ll do great. Safe travels.”

Nicole glanced back one last time. Her dad had his arm around her mom’s shoulders, both of them waving through their tears. She turned away, her heart aching as she stepped onto the jetway. The walk to the plane felt endless, each step heavier than the last. She found her seat—5A—and stowed her backpack in the overhead bin. Sliding into the window seat, she stared out at the tarmac, the reality of her departure sinking in.

An older man settled into the seat beside her, glancing at her tear-streaked face. “Headed to college, huh?” he asked softly. Nicole nodded, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Yeah,” she whispered. The man smiled, his eyes kind. “I remember when my daughter left for college. My wife and I were a mess. But we made it through, and so will you.” He reached over and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve got this, kid.”

Nicole managed a small smile, though the tears kept coming. The plane’s engines roared to life, and a wave of panic washed over her. What if she wasn’t ready? What if she made the wrong choice? She gripped the armrests, her knuckles white, as the plane began to taxi. The man beside her noticed her distress and leaned over. “It’s okay to be scared,” he said. “But you’re stronger than you think. This is just the beginning.”

As the plane lifted off the ground, Nicole closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She thought about her parents, about the life she was leaving behind, and about the unknown future waiting for her. The fear was still there, but so was a tiny spark of excitement. This was her journey, her chance to grow and discover who she was. She opened her eyes and looked out the window, watching as the world she knew grew smaller and smaller.

The man beside her handed her a tissue, and she took it with a grateful smile. “Thank you,” she said, her voice steadier now. He nodded. “You’re going to do amazing things. Just remember to breathe.”

Nicole leaned back in her seat, the tension in her chest easing slightly. She didn’t know what lay ahead, but for the first time, she felt a glimmer of hope. This wasn’t just an ending—it was a beginning. And as the plane soared into the sky, she whispered to herself, “I’ve got this.”