On My 18th Birthday, My Parents Drove Me to the Ai…

“Mom?” I whispered. She closed her eyes. That was all.

No apology. No explanation. No last-minute crack in whatever decision had brought us here.

Just closed eyes, like my voice was something she could shut out if she refused to look at me. My father pressed the unlock button. The sound was small and final.

I do not remember opening the door. I remember cold air rushing in. I remember my shoes hitting the curb.

I remember reaching back for my bag because some obedient part of me still did what I was supposed to do. I remember standing upright with the ticket in one hand and my bag in the other. Before I could close the door properly, the car pulled away.

I watched the taillights merge into traffic. No brake. No hesitation.