I want to stay (Burma)

It is my last day in Burma. I arrive at Yangon airport at 6 AM for my 8 AM flight.

At security, a stern-faced woman inspects my bag and asks me to open a sealed packet. Inside are three Burmese puppets. She picks one up and, to my surprise, briefly moves its arms, murmuring something in Burmese, as if transported into another world. I stand there, amused. A moment later, she places the puppet carefully back into the packet and resumes her serious demeanor, moving on to the next passenger.

After clearing the immigration, I head for the waiting room. There aren’t many people, but I notice some kids playing, and one crying. The crying kid is asking for an ice cream. The rest of the children gaze at the tiny planes with awe. These small planes are getting ready for their flights to the small cities up north. I wish I were in one of those small planes, but I have to wait for a big plane.

Finally, a bus ferries us off to the big plane, although we could have walked. Passengers look back and wave goodbyes to their loved ones. I spot the security woman by the stairway. Our eyes meet for a second. Without thinking, I waved goodbye to her. Now it’s her turn to be amused. She recovers quickly and with a smile, returns the farewell.

I want to stay.