To the boy left riding the plane to everywhere by Annyka Dela Cruz

To the boy who is travelling the world,

When you get to the Griffith observatory, I hope you scan for the highest building, reach for it, take pictures, turn the brilliance into your own hide-out.

When you get to the Oceanside harbor, I hope you breathe the air that the beach provides, the heat of the sun, the salt in your eyes. Do not block them off, keep your skin sun-kissed, your cheeks red.

When you get to the magnificent Bean of Chicago, I hope you remember The Vow, and how we bawled our eyes at the end, how you spilled the last box of popcorn on the floor, but decided to eat them anyway. I hope you remember how I told you I would love to kiss next to the Bean with you.

When you get to the Willis Tower Skydeck, go to the 103rd floor. I promise, the skyline will catch your breath, make sure you make it worthwhile.

When you get to Paris, I know you’ll go straight to the Eiffel Tower. I know you’ll remember me, I know you’ll think of my name, and how it has France in it. I know how you’ll remember the puns we have made. “Eiffel for you,” you would say. I would laugh, “Eiffel for you, too” and we would both laugh. Once you’re there, know that I still am falling for you.

When you are finally at the in-between destinations, the constant airplane rides, I hope you think of me. I hope you recall the times we planned travelling the world together, but for now, keep your itchy-feet satisfied, I will be with you soon. Sleep tight, once this plane lands, there’s another destination to explore.

To the boy who left riding the plane to everywhere