He’d been stuck in the terminal for eighteen hours with the storm still raging outside.
Bad weather had grounded everything. There was no way of knowing when the airport’s operations would restart. He was on his way to an important meeting, with its outcome for the company worth millions. He had built it up from nothing. What was it worth? Two hundred, three hundred million? He didn’t know. He was tired of it, tired of it all.
As the hours dragged by, a sense of personal renewal was going on: yet again. His wife, children, friends, all good, but… he would love to be able to start again. He could lose the mansion, the boat and the club memberships. He was quite sure of that. In a way, it bothered him that these thoughts had been plaguing him of late, but on the other hand the thought of it gave him a sense of calmness; a joyful resolve that had him flashing back to the happy, carefree times of childhood.
People just disappeared didn’t they? One minute they were where everybody expected them to be, the next, gone. Didn’t you have to plan these things? Legalities, ownership stuff and bank accounts; or do these people just wing it. It would be his choice alone. Nobody else could make the decision. What was it the doctor said? Go on at this rate, I give you two years, three years tops.
He got up and walked around. He went again to the ‘Delayed’ notice on the departures board. He returned to his seat. He stood, eyeing his travel cases. Nothing had been checked in yet. Apart from his electronic flight ticket there was nothing to say where he was going, or that he was going anywhere. He wondered what the weather was like in Chicago. He checked his mobile for world weather. Not much better.
He settled back on his seat and let his memories of childhood holidays return with vivid recollection. That little village in Spain that his parents would take time off in. Where was it now? Jubrique, or at least somewhere near it. So long ago. Yet he clearly remembers the row of white chalets, with a view out across the rugged blue-green hills. The old caretaker with his guitar, sitting in the rented chalet, sipping offered wine and playing; such playing, such magical music!
Another six hours went by before the airport was reopened for business.
He changed his ticket.