Page 84 of The Vacation Mix-Up
As if magnetized to him, my body inches forward, when thewind seems to intentionally intervene, whipping my hair across my face and snapping me out of the moment.
“W-What time is it?” I ask, lifting my wrist to check my watch. “I… I better head to the helipad.”
He blinks, stands, and offers me his hand. “I’ll walk you there.”
Checkingthe buckles are secured on my seatbelt as the helicopter engine roars to life, I grip my seat, equally terrified and ecstatic as we elevate off the ground.
The wind from the rotor blades gusts around Riley, and he holds his beanie on his head while waving with his other hand. I lean closer to the window and wave back, my smile so ridiculously immense that I’m sure he can see my molars. But as thrilled as I am about adventuring to a glacier, I’m also disappointed he’s not sharing the experience with me. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and he’s missing out.
After discovering he’s as untraveled as I am, and that he seems anguished by it, my heart had splintered for him. Regret is a constantly wedged blade, tearing into the present. An emotional Excalibur of sorts, embedded until someone comes along and wrenches it free. And like me, he too needs a King Arthur of sorts to draw it out.
I make a mental note to make sure he books more shore excursions.
“Helicopter Six, climbing to altitude,” the pilot says through my headphones, the nose of the aircraft dipping just slightly as we soar forward over the village, toward the mountains.
I squeal like my nine-year-old self on Christmas morning when I unwrapped my copy ofHarry Potter: The Prisoner of Azkaban. And as I did that snowy December day twenty-three years ago, I can’t suppress my childlike glee.
Thank you, Mom. Thank you for championing me to see what Ihaven’t until now.Thank you for directing my eyes beyond a desk and the pages of a book.
Bouncing in my seat, I turn to the couple huddled together beside me, both of them peering out the window, the woman excitedly pointing to the landscape, her partner gently kissing the side of her head. My smile falters. I have no one to kiss or to kiss me. No one to make memories with or huddle against in the event of the helicopter crashing.
Jesus, Riley, why would you think that?
Shaking away the dreaded and foolish thoughts, I gaze out my window again as we approach the ice shelf, nothing but rocky peaks and a sheet of white on the horizon.
“In just a few minutes, we’ll be flying over the ice cap,” the pilot explains. “Over eighty percent of Greenland is constantly covered in ice, with the southern tip only accessible via air or sea. There are no roads beyond the villages, so the only way to travel is by boat or aircraft.”
I eagerly stare at the scenery below, the snow and ice so white and bright it’s almost blinding. “Holy cow!” I murmur, squinting with the glare.
“No, there are no cows. As you can see, they have no vegetation to graze.”
“Oh. I didn’t mean—” I go to explain to the pilot that he heard me wrong but decide to just shut up and listen. “Never mind.”
Lost for words, as no words could justifiably describe the ethereal landscape, at best, I would liken it to heaven. Pure and fresh. Overwhelming. Spiritual.
My chest tightens, and I know my mother is here with me, soaring above the earth, sharing this magical moment. I can feel it to my core, her presence tangible yet angelic, a force so strong I can barely breathe.
I inhale a shuddering breath, my fingers trembling as I wipe happy tears from my eyes with my sleeve and just… be.
Be one with the moment.
One with nature.
One with my momma.
Roughly an hour later,we set down in Qaqortok, a palpable sadness and sense of loss spearing my chest, and yet I’m equally beholden by the experience, to feel so close to my mother again and to have her with me in spirit.
I’m also shocked to see Riley waiting for me at the edge of the helipad.
“How was it?” he shouts over the noise of the engine as it powers down.
“Incredible!” I shout back. “I have no words.”
“A publishing assistant without words?”
“I know! Crazy, huh? Words don’t do what I just experienced justice, so I’m not even going to try.”
“Did you take pictures?”
