Itinerary for One

I found it in a library book —

my own handwriting, so careful

it looked like someone making a promise:

Confirm seat. Eat before boarding.

The word confirm underlined twice.

One corner of the paper soft with old water.

I must have been twenty-two, twenty-three.

Standing at the gate with a bag too heavy,

eating a vending machine sandwich

over a trash can

because the instructions said to.

I remember being proud

of how prepared I was.

I remember being terrified

and calling it prepared.

I held the paper over the donation box

for a long time.

The handwriting was so neat.

The way you write when you don't trust

what happens if you stop concentrating.