When you board an international flight, you notice a shift. It might be the families traveling to their home countries, the service crew speaking a new language, the accents you hear around you, or the airbus with double digit seats in every row that let you know your environment is changing.

“It’s so different hearing American English accents. I haven’t heard a lot of that in Montreal. I’m so used to French now.” The young woman in my row explained to her friend all about her international life north of the border.

It appears that I’m amongst my tribe. People taking their swing. Folks finding a pressure valve from America’s big cities to try their lot elsewhere in a cosmopolitan culture hub of North America.

“I don’t see myself having kids. If I was to have children, I would have them in the next few years, and right now, I just want to travel, and chill.” I feel ya sis.

Time for departure. Delta airlines Atlanta to Mexico City.The cabin falls silent during taxi. With afternoon sun beaming through open window shades, the plane approaches the runway.

Peeping over the shoulder ahead of me, Salvador has closed his Google doc and now, clutching the machine in his lap, tilts his head back, and shuts his eyes.

The jets roar to life. Takeoff. Speed. Liftoff.

The cabin climbs at a 45 degree angle. We’re all strapped in, headed for a dream manifested.

I cried. I had planned for this, I had fought for this, I had held space for this moment. Honestly, I had known that  I would do this for a year now. Somewhere along I got lost and began to lose steam. While stuck in the mud, I looked ahead to this day.

This is what I wanted. This is what I asked for. This is my dream, a dream that has clutched to me just as tightly as I held on to it. 

It’s finally here.

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#AMAKACohortFeb2024