Coming Up For Air | ✓

28 | exhale

Where she's stood on the side of the curb—dressed in a white sleeveless cotton top and a pair of blue denims—Stella gazes out at the bustle of the airport drop-off spot.

Her hair flutters lightly against her bare, sun-kissed shoulders in the windy September heat and she shoots her black leather tote a glance—even though she already knows she'll see the soft, gray knitted fabric stick out of it—to make sure she's remembered to pack a sweater for the flight.

All around her, there's life: a family of seven hauling suitcases behind them as they make their way toward the main entrance of this terminal, further away a couple are bidding each other goodbye. A lone man whirls around on his toes, neck stretched and chin raised—as if he's trying to figure out exactly where he needs to be. People move in and out of the automatic circular doors. Some harried-looking, quick on their feet. Others take their sweet time, seeming to be in no rush at all.

Angling her face toward the early morning light, Stella draws in deep breath.

The inhale is easy: gathering all that air into her lungs. She holds it there for a moment—the same way she would've had she been deep beneath the surface of a pool, or the lake.

Then—she exhales just as freely, a lightness to her chest.

"Holy–," Next to her, Faye slams the back of her truck closed as she sets Stella's pink 29" suitcase down between them. Her mouth forms an 'O', cheeks sucked in, as she lets out an exaggerated breath. "That's heavy."

Stella frowns, regarding the bag. "Not additional-fee-heavy. Right?"

"No," Pushing her sunglasses up into her hair—the brown strands pulled back into a haphazardly twisted together bun at the back of her head—, revealing her red-rimmed, tearstained eyes, Faye waves her hand in a dismissive gesture. "No that should be fine."

"Okay," Stella nods, a tight knot slowly beginning to curl at the pit of her stomach. "Good."

She sets her tote—stacked to the brim with a few of her most essential things, including travel sized bottles of her favorite skincare products as well as two swimsuits, just in case her checked bag gets lost on the way—down atop the suitcase.

Weighing back on her heels, she lets her lips slip into a small smile. She's doing this—she's really doing it.

It feels like it was only yesterday she was stood at the edge of the dock that first morning at the lake house, yet it seems so far away she can barely believe it's only been a few months.

That morning, with the faint sounds of the lake around her—the birds chirping, the reeds rustling in the water, the wooden planks creaking underneath her feet—she'd glanced out at the sky and found promises. Promises of new beginnings. Of an escape.

Now, she's about to board a plane and set off on yet another new adventure. Another fresh start. But in her heart—where the hot, heavy sadness used to press against her sternum—she no longer feels the need to escape. Or start over. Not really.

This time, she's running towards something: an opportunity, a future. Back in June, no matter what she tried to tell herself, she was running away.

She's not exactly sure when the latter shifted into the former, but if there's one thing she's certain of, it's that her summer in Blue Windflower Lake had a lot—if not everything—to do with it.

They'd all been right. Angelina and Geoffrey, Faye, her moms, Ms Flores. A summer at the lake house had been exactly what she needed. And though she only left a few days ago to go home, do her laundry and re-pack, she already misses it.