Shortly after Gaza when Donna returns from Germany*
A teary farewell between families. Two giddy teenage girls on their first solo travel. A tired looking woman attempting to keep track of four small children. All of this I noticed while I waited in the main entrance of the airport.
She was coming home. God how I miss her. These past few days at Camp David and the White House had seemed eternally long.
Any moment now Donnatella Moss would come down that hallway and things would return to how they were. A persistent wave of guilt spread from my stomach to the rest of my body.
It's my fault. I sent her directly into danger, and she got hurt. If I had lost her, I'm not sure what I would have done. Losing her would be like losing oxygen.
I rubbed my hand across the corner of my face as I do when I think too hard, or I just need to change thoughts. When I looked back up, I saw her approaching. A flight attendant was pushing her in a wheelchair. Donna was wearing a purple blouse and a khaki skirt. The bold fuscha made her alabaster skin tone appear abnormally pale. She looked small and fragile. As she got closer, I could see the scars on her face where she had been cut up by glass.
"Will you help me up so I can greet him," I heard her ask the attendant as they drew nearer. As soon as she was balanced on her good foot, the flight attendant left us. She stood with her hands at her sides. Her stance was hunched and weak. Unsure of what to do or say, we just stood there for a moment.
Then we were hugging. Donna simply fell into me, for she could barely stand on her own. Holding her in my arms was utterly refreshing.
"I'm so sorry I let this happen Donna," I whispered as I moved one of my hands from her lower back, to her hair. Her hair smelled like vanilla even though she had been traveling for ten hours.
"It's not your fault," she said shakily, "And hey, I'm alive."
"We will find them," I said. "The ones responsible for the bombing." With the word 'bombing' I felt her whole body go tense.
"What's the matter," I asked with fear creeping into my voice.
"I was just... it was so..." Donna began to cry into my shoulder as I pulled her closer.
"Shhhhhhh," I breathed as I stroked her hair gently. "It's ok, everything's alright now."
"I get visions... flashbacks to when... the explosion..." her sentence was finished by a new eruption of sobs.
Visions? I caused her visions too? Damnit Josh!
We can bring Stanley in," I soothed. "You can talk to someone. We'll help you."
I kissed the top of her head and slowly rubbed her back. Her violent shaking subsided, and we both pulled away.
"I'm so sorry, I just-" she began.
"Don't be," I said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"Thanks Josh," she said.
"I have been told by all the ladies I am an excellent counselor," I joked in reply as I helped her back into her wheelchair.
"No I mean for everything. For picking me up, giving me an opportunity, coming to visit me, for staying..." she said.
"Thanks for coming home," and I wheeled her out the doors and into the sunshine.