First Solo Flight

It’s been a while since I last sat down to write here, thanks to end-of-semester exams taking over everything. But now that things have finally slowed down a little, it feels nice to be back here again, sharing something small but special.

A couple of weeks ago, I took my first solo flight, from Pune to Dehradun, my hometown.

It sounds simple, but it wasn’t just another travel day. I’ve flown plenty of times before, but always with family, where I didn’t have to think twice about which gate to go to or when to board. This time, though, it was just me and my suitcase, quietly figuring it all out.

At the airport, I wasn’t completely alone at first, my roommate was there too, waiting for her flight. We spent the morning together, sipping coffee, taking photos, and laughing over how grown-up we suddenly felt. Eventually, we parted ways, walking toward different gates, different flights, different destinations.

There was this strange mix of comfort and calm that followed. I found a quiet spot by the window, ordered a hot chocolate, opened The Atlas Paradox, and just sat there, watching people rush around while I had nowhere to be but right there, in that moment.

Maybe it’s because I’ve been away for months now, living in a new city and learning to handle things on my own, but that morning felt different. The kind of independence that doesn’t shout, it just quietly settles in.

There was a quiet heaviness to that moment. Sitting there, alone yet not lonely, I felt a wave of warmth and calm, almost as if the universe was giving me a gentle pat on the back. It wasn’t about doing something big or brave, but about realizing how far I’ve come from the person who used to need someone by her side for every little thing.

And when the plane finally took off, I looked out at the clouds and smiled. Coming home hits differently when you’ve grown a little in between.