Waving at the Vanishing Tail Lights of an Airplane
I looked up from the passenger seat while driving around finishing mundane chores and there it was, a big regal plane descending slowly from the sky, its lights blinking glittering little stars. Remembering the last time I was on an airplane that was landing in Kuwait Airport, I remember how I was glued to the plane’s window, checking out the landmarks of Kuwait and trying to decipher the street map before my eyes to locate where I call home. Upon recalling that memory, I began waving to the plane and saying hello.
Three waves later I felt silly, bordering on ludicrous even. There I was, a passenger in a car waving at an airplane in the air. No one can see me from the plane, not the captain, nor the passengers glued to their windows. I’m as invisible as a black pixel, undetectable from that height, and my eager waves were for nothing. My waving hand back down to rest beside me and I lowered my gaze. I waved and no one saw me, and no one will ever see me. How many things we do in life that no one can see, or will ever know about? How many times was I a white dot on a white wall, living in my very own bubble that will yield no recognition whatsoever?
Do I need someone, anyone, to know about things I do? Why would I need it in the first place? Encouragement? Recognition? What kind of satisfaction that comes from society’s approval? What if I don’t grant it? Does it mean whatever I did is meaningless, or means nothing? Should be only be doing something for other people to see? How many times before have I done things for myself or for others that no one ever saw? Or watched but chose not to see? Or seen but never appreciated or recognised? Or did see and admire but chose to keep silent about it? Did that ever stop me from doing what I want to do or give back the way I like?
No. Never. Because the single most important person that should know already knows, and that person is me. It’s enough that I know. It’s enough that I remember. It’s enough that I see and appreciate, encourage myself and debate my actions, and that is what counts in the end.
I lift up my arm again and wave, a happy smile on my face, until the plane’s tail lights vanish from my sight. I don’t feel silly this time, I don’t need someone to wave back at me, because I know someone might be or might not be waving back at me even if we can’t see each other.
