Dandelions in an Airport
- Gardenia Verchiel
- 27 may
- 3 min de lectura
I Haven’t Won Anything, But I Still Make Wishes.
I’m not exactly sure when I started writing for other people, because for a long time I wrote the way someone keeps things inside a drawer. Not out of fear, but out of a strange kind of respect for something I didn’t fully understand yet.
I’ve submitted a short novel titled Bajo Red Mesa to a literary contest, along with other stories like “Instructions for Finding Your Way Home,” “Emma’s Tuesdays,” “The Door,” “The Night of Chains,” “Confession from the Urn,” “Line 13,” and the poem “Deep Ritual,” the way someone blows dandelion seeds into the wind, hoping they might take root in distant gardens. I don’t know if any of them will, but that has never stopped me from blowing them into the air.
¡Thank you for reading! Subscribe for free if you’d like to stay a little longer and continue traveling with me through stories, reflections, and the quiet things that usually go unnoticed.
Because for me, writing is learning how to travel without moving the body. And today, by pure serendipity, we happened to meet in this strange airport made of words — you with your screen, me with my words.
I don’t know how you found your way here, but now that you have, I don’t think it’s an accident that the dandelions I blew into the air days ago ended up finding this exact current, this window, this small opening between your fingers.
So sit down, and make yourself comfortable. The seats on this aircraft aren’t the kind that leave your back aching after three hours. They adjust to your posture, to your way of reading, to the way your eyes linger after a sentence keeps echoing somewhere inside you.
Choose the window seat if you need a horizon. Choose the aisle if you need space to stretch your legs. Recline your seat a little if you want to — I won’t judge you for wanting a softer journey.
And let the flight take care of the rest.
We’re not going to ask you to turn off your devices or slide your tablet beneath the seat in front of you. Quite the opposite. Keep the screen glowing. It’s the only flashlight we’ll need for this flight.
The turbulence ahead isn’t meant to bring the plane down. It’s there to make the experience feel real. You’ll feel the cabin tremble sometimes. The low vibration of the engines — that sound that can either soothe you or remind you how fragile everything really is. The pressure in your ears that tells you you’re climbing, leaving something behind, watching the ground become smaller and smaller beneath you.
And right at takeoff, when the engines deepen into that heavy roar and your chest feels the pull of no return, look down at your keyboard.
What you see there is not dust.
It’s a seed.
One of those tiny white parachutes that drift through the air unnoticed until they decide to land somewhere. And now one of them has landed between your fingers.
For now, just know this: Verchelinos are the people who stay one second longer than they planned to. And if you’ve made it this far, then maybe you already are one of them.You only have one thing left to do: Tell me yes.Will you be my Verchelino?
✍️ A question for this journey
Have you ever let a dream drift into the air, not knowing where it might land?
Have you ever boarded a flight without being entirely sure where you were going?
Tell me in the comments. I enjoy traveling with people who still have the courage to follow uncertainty.
🔑 If you’d like to stay on this flight…
📩 Subscribe so you don’t miss the next keys I leave behind.
🌐 Land on my website: www.gardeniaverchiel.com
📸 Instagram — https://www.instagram.com/gardenia.verchiel/
📘 Facebook — https://www.facebook.com/GardeniaVerchiel.Autora/
Comentarios