The Stars I Imagined

More than a few hours down, a couple random small talks, and about 10 different sleeping positions after, I was landing on Ho Chi Minh City Airport. Yes, my flight had been delayed, but the smell of greasy noodles and the lighted signs in front of the airport got me already halfway to one of the restaurants. Wherever I looked, I was suddenly surrounded by 90’s scooters: red, black, grey… $6 a day, covered with dust but ready to go. However, with two full backpacks on and the sweat running from the top of my head to the tip of my toes, I hardly made it through the parking lot before deciding a shortcut through the park. Four first steps on the grass and I could already feel my feet soaked in mud.


All of a sudden, a big smelly man chest on a once-white shirt was standing in front of me. I could smell the alcohol on his breath right away. He smiled and I turned around to another three men, all bathed in sweat and barely standing. I could hear my mom’s prayings go like an automatic warning mind-tape. «Kick and run», my brother’s life advice this time. I looked around to the fence I’d have to jump for the closest exit, but what seemed to be a dirty mattress was in the way. Ah no, that was not the story I would tell on my way back.


With the smallest backpack on my chest, I stared at the first man with all my daily victories and defeats in mind. «You are nobody»- I thought over and over while my feet were stepping towards him. On the roll of his eyes, I turned around more than ready to kick and run, but the light coming from one of the restaurant's signs revealed my exit through a gap between two of the men. «Go. Walk, run, Patricia, run! Do not fall. The park, the fence, the old scooters, the road, the airport. The airport. Closed!» Well, It could not be, but it was. The security guard informed me, and more than 20 people around, that benches would be made available for us to sleep outside that night.


As if life was suddenly running in slow motion, I took out the couple meters of cord from the side pocket of my backpack and carefully tied me and my belongings to the heavy bench placed next to a family. All dressed in white, a little girl at my right was looking up at the sky. I think I imagined far more stars of which there were, but in each tiny light on that sky I could see and hear everyone I knew and all of those who I was meant to meet on that trip. And then that bench felt like Home, whatever that word means. «Wait for me Hanoi, I am coming.»