The unstopable rain, falling like tears from the sky, covered the buildings and the sleeping trees in a transparent curtain. It was a busy Monday - no room for a smile, no turning around. People were hiding under their umbrellas, pulling their shoulders up to protect themselves from the wind. People were running like ants in and out of the grey airport building. The arrivals were rushing like always. They rushed to pick up their luggage, and then to take a taxi to a place that would hide them from the pouring rain. That autumn, if possible, was even rainier than usual.
A couple of thousands of miles away from that city, a plane started its way towards it. The plane was loaded with many different sorts of passangers - families, aunts, uncles, tourists, businessmen. Even three monks were sitting, occupying a row of chairs by the window.
Why are some people afraid of flights? It"s probably the most unexciting event that can possibly be. It"s nice to watch the pretty view out of the little window, see how the city is becoming smaller, how at first the tall buildings are little like matchboxes, and then become unrecognizable, how the city, with all its earthy rush, filth and noise remains far below. But after a short time, all you can see is the clouds below you. And those clouds are always the same. Or sometimes the sky is clear and then the blue ocean is seen. But one gets bored of it after staring at it for hours. So people try to sleep in the chairs that become more uncomfortable with every minute of sitting, read trashy magazines or - what"s worse - try to eat. Without even mentioning the horrors of airplane food, the little tray that is attached to the chair in front of you is hardly big enough to put a cup of coffee on it.
A girl in jeans and a sweatshirt was sitting by the window. She wasn’t reading, eating or watching the film that was shown on the TV screen right in front of her. She was obviously alone - she ignored her neighbour, a big, fat woman that obviously had nothing to do with her. Her dark-haired head was turned towards the window, but she just stared at one point and it was obvious that her thoughts were wandering far away. She was thin and tiny and looked younger than her fourteen years. Her long dark hair was picked up in a ponytail. She didn"t look sleepy like the other passengers, despite the night that she had spent in the airport, passing the registration and waiting for the flight. The dark shadows by her eyes seemed to result of rather of worry than of sleepiness.
There was nothing to watch - only darkness outside the window. It was three o"clock in the morning - the deepest, gloomiest hour of darkness. There were still hours to spend in the airplane, hanging in the black sky. The forests and the cities below were asleep. The plane was asleep. Even the ones who were awake were asleep. The pilot was dreaming of home. And young Maija sat there by the window.
It was a little bit past five when the airplane landed and the passengers stepped off it, welcomed by the pouring rain and the cold autumn morning. It was still dark, and windy, and on top of everything very cold. The people rushed into the airport building, seeking for a shelter. Maija got lost in the crowd. With so many people around, it was easy to become the loneliest person in the world. She picked up her luggage, which consisted of only one suitcase, and went outside, searching with her eyes for something.
And there he was - with his familiar figure, tall and broad, his large mustache and bright blue eyes, which could be seen sparkling from a distance. Almost two meters long, he could be easily noticed even among the tall people in the crowd. When seeing Maija, he waved energetically and rushed towards her, pushing his way through the crowd. He opened his arms and squeezed her until she could hardly breathe. He kissed her forehead and cheeks, scratching them with his rough mustache. Maija smiled at him, hardly bearing the weight of his arm on her shoulder.
"It was a long way, papa," - she said, - "and it"s terribly cold. And I"m so silly that I didn"t take anything warm to wear. But still, I"m happy to be here. Living with you is so much more fun that with aunt Johanna" - she added, winking at her father.
"Oh, I know what you talk about, Maija", - smiled the big man - "Old Johanna doesn"t know what human company should be treated like. And I don’t care what the doctors talk about, either, about the climate here being bad for you and all. You"re going to stay here with me, eat well, exercise and have fun like all the children, and you"re going to be fine and healthy like everyone".
It was hard to believe, looking at Vlad"s figure of a woodsman, that he was an ornitologist, and a rather well-known one. Four years ago, when he got a job offer far at the North, the relatives and the doctors altogether put all their efforts into convincing him that his daughter, Maija, who used to be sickly in her childhood, should stay where it"s warm and sunny. Afraid for his daughter, and unable to give up on the excellent salary that was offered to him, he left her with his older sister, Johanna. The anti-social, strict woman took care of the girl during four years. There wasn"t a day when the girl wouldn"t ask for her papa, the only person she loved since her mother died. One morning, Vlad called his sister and said: "I miss my little Maija too much. It isn"t right that my little girl is so far away. Send her to me on the next flight, I"ve booked a ticket for her already". Two days after that telephone conversation, Maija was standing next to her smiling father in the airport.
"We should go home as soon as possible, before that damn rain gets even worse, and I know it as well as to say that it sure will. Come on, shortie." - said Vlad, as he took off his jacket and covered his daughter"s shoulders with it. - "You didn"t grow a bit since I saw you last year. My sweet Maija! I should have never left you behind in the first place."
"I can"t wait to see where you live, papa," - she replied, smiling, uncovering a row of small white teeth.
"In a big, empty house, Maija. You will have a room for you, or two, or even three if you want. Let"s go home".
Vlad was driving, with his daughter"s head on his shoulder. After a sleepless night, Maija closed her eyes and fell asleep, letting out a sigh from time to time. The road was still free of traffic jams. After about an hour, they reached a neighborhood full of cosy houses and trees with yellow, red and brown leaves.