The Flight That Made Me Cry: A Traveler’s Tale

At first glance, this photo looks like a pretty normal shot that I took during a flight: clouds, blue sky, a wing, and somewhere far below, the islands of the Philippines.

But what you cannot see in this photo is me behind the camera.

You cannot see the required face shield. You cannot see the obligatory face mask.

And you cannot see that I was crying out of happiness.

This was my first flight during the COVID pandemic. I had just left Davao City for Manila, and from there I would continue all the way to Frankfurt. After more than a year, I was finally on my way to see my mother again.

The months before that flight had been filled with uncertainty. Like so many people around the world, we kept asking the same questions again and again: When will we be able to see our loved ones? When will we be able to travel again? When will flying feel normal again?

For someone like me, not being able to travel was more than just inconvenient. It felt like being trapped. Not being able to fly, especially when family was far away, felt like a nightmare.

Then my mother got sick.

Suddenly all the fears about travelling during the pandemic became less important. I knew I had to go. I had to fly, no matter how complicated it was, no matter how many documents, tests, rules, masks, shields, and worries stood in the way.

But then she felt a little better and asked me to stay in the Philippines for the moment. So I waited. I stayed. And of course I was grateful she was doing better, but the longing remained. The longing to move again. The longing to cross borders. The longing to sit in an aeroplane and know that every kilometre brought me closer to someone I loved.

A few months later, I finally made it.

And this was that flight.

I still remember the unique feeling of boarding the plane. It was different from the usual travel excitement; a strange sense of adventure hung in the air. Everyone was masked up, and the flight attendants, looking like heroes in their protective gear, added a sense of importance to the journey. The whole aeroplane had an almost otherworldly vibe, like a sci-fi movie, but it was thrilling to embark on a journey despite the unusual circumstances. It felt like we were all part of something bigger, navigating through a new chapter of travel together!

But then we took off.

Davao became smaller beneath us as we soared through the sky, the clouds parting to reveal a stunning vista. The sky was endlessly blue, and in that moment of clarity, we spotted the Philippine islands spread out below—like vibrant, joyful memories dancing on the azure sea. What a breathtaking sight!

It was beautiful.

After months of fear, lockdowns, restrictions, bad news, and separation, I was in the air again. I was moving again. I was going home, or at least to the place where my mother was waiting.

And that was when the tears came.

Nobody could see them. The mask and face shield hid everything. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe that was one small advantage of this strange pandemic travel outfit. I could sit there quietly, looking out of the window, crying my private tears of relief, gratitude, fear, and happiness. The flight crew seemed more like doctors and nurses in an ER than regular flight attendants.

It was not just a flight from Davao to Manila.

It was the end of waiting. It was the beginning of seeing my mother again. It was proof that even in a time when the world felt closed, there was still a way forward.

And maybe that is why this simple airplane photo means so much to me.

To anyone else, it might just show clouds and a wing.

To me, it shows the moment I started to breathe again.