She's back ~ L. Hamilton

97. | Reunited

Daniel had to fly straight to Austria to do some laps in the car because they're brining loads of new upgrades to the first race of the season. So after a goodbye at the airport, we parted ways and headed off on our respective flights - the Wimbledon trophy still clutched in my hand the whole way through the airport.

I got a lot of funny looks as I walked through the airport. But also a lot of smiles as people glanced down at the trophy in my hand, which I quickly realised was a beacon for people to come up to me. So after a quick stop in a shop and picking up a scarf to cover it, I got onto the plane.

I just wanted to get home.

I wanted to land in the airport, run through baggage claim, through the doors of arrivals to see my uncle standing there.

I want it more than anything.

It was one of the longest flights of my life. I didn't sleep at all, I'm too excited.

Eventually the plane landed and we could get off.

I quickly grabbed my suitcase and went to head towards the doors of arrivals, when an older man in a uniform stopped me, his radio clutched in his right hand

"Delaney Ricciardo?" He asked

"Yes?"

"Found her" he said into his wacki tacki before turning back to me "would you mind coming with me?"

"What for?" I asked, already about to lose my patience. My uncle is probably standing metres away, I just want to see him, it's been the longest four weeks of my life.

"Please, just come with me" he says

I let out an annoyed sigh, but follow him regardless, angrily kicking my suitcase onto its side so it'll roll behind me.  Deciding an airport probably isn't the best place to run away from security

The older man led me away from the direction the crowd were heading, off to the side.

There were large doors, they looked like they used to be used for arrivals or something, which he opened quickly with a key.

He continued down the hallway behind the doors around two corners, and after five minutes, I lost my patience

"Seriously, where the fuck am I going?" I curse

"Just a little more Ma'am"

"No, seriously, I have people I need to see, that are probably standing out their waiting for me. I don't want to be following some random person down some empty hallways"

"Please ma'am, just a-"

"Oh seriously, where the fuck-"

My words die in my mouth as we round another corner.

There he was.

My uncle was standing in the middle of one of the airport hallways, empty, a walking stick clutched in front of him as he stared back at me.

His color is back, and he looks healthy and strong. The sun was streaming in gently through the windows beside him, reflecting off him.

The moment he sees me, he beams. It's a smile so big that it takes over his face. I'm not sure I've seen him smile like this in decades.

The sight is enough to knock me over.

I feel myself drop my suitcase, my handbag, my book, even the trophy, and run down the rest of the corridor, to him.

I throw my arms around him, wrapping them so tight around his neck and shoulders. He holds me so close I think he might snap my bones.

My uncle has always had this same smell—a smell I've been fond of my entire life. I always assumed it was his natural scent. Until one day, as a teenager, I wandered into the fragrance section of the pharmacy and smelled English Leather.