lost luggage

i've driven a handful of my friends to the columbus airport since moving here. some of them are gone for a week, some are gone longer, but for that amount of time, i'm the last familar face they see.
the ride to the airport is always short. small talk fills the car like the warm, stuffy air from the dated heater. i ask how long they'll be gone for even though i already know the answer. the roads are wet from the melting snow and they loop around each other like thorn covered branches on a jaggerbush. a cop car peers out from behind the median with his radar gun pointed at me as if i was a criminal. he sits there as more of a threat than an aid. we pass. different colored flags blowing strong in the late winter wind tells us that the day is strong. we slow down and eventually stop. hug. and i leave them with just their luggage. the trip up until this point is short. when i get back on the highway though, i'm lost. i change directions and forget everything. i follow signs. i'm convinced i took a wrong turn until i come out from under an overpass and see the skyline peeking over oppsing traffic. i'm identified with that skyline now. after noticing the fourth st exit, i take it and gawk at the wonder bread sign perched upon an old brick building. i know my way home from here.
later while i'm on the playground at work i hear a helicopter cutting threw the sky; fast and loud. everyone looks up for that moment, wondering who could be in there. i find myself now wondering how they got there. my attention is quickly diverted by a kid on the moneybars yelling across the schoolyard to his friend that he'll see him tomorrow.