Airport Musings

We picked my dad up at the airport tonight when he returned from his buddy trip with his best friend, Gary Jones. I used to love airports, probably because I never have had to spend much time in them. I loved to people-watch at the arrivals gates, when lovedones could wait down at the gate, pre-9/11... I would see little kids waiting for grandparents and grandparents waiting for little kids; men holding bouquets of flowers, waiting for their wives or girlfriends; good friends who would sometimes laugh, cry and hug all at the same time when their buddies walked out of that gate.

It is different now, sure. I stayed with the car while Pat and Isaac went inside to wait at baggage claim, but even in the line of parked cars, emotions were evident in those who waited with me. In the car in front of me were a daddy, a little boy and the family dog. The little boy, who was probably 7 or 8, kept getting out of the car and running up to the doors to look in. At last, he got out one final time and sprinted for the door. He returned with his mom on his arm, looking much relieved to have her back on the ground with him.

I watched a lady in jeans and flip flops walk very slowly across the traffic lanes and off to the parking lot. I supposed she had just left the one she loved and was going home alone. I watched a man in his 60's loading the trunk of a taxi with a suitcase while balancing the freshly-lit cigarette on his bottom lip - feeding his habit not a few feet away from the airport doors. I saw an elegant-looking lady with bleached hair lean against her large suitcase and make a call on her cell phone. A white luxury SUV pulled up next to me and she walked over. A man opened the back hatch, without speaking a word to her (nor her to him) as he lifted the suitcase into the car. She went around to the passenger side and got in. They never spoke. They never embraced. They scarcely even looked at each other.

Perhaps I have it all wrong. Maybe they weren't married. He could have been her brother, or just a friend, maybe even an employee. Regardless, it was sad. I hope someone is always to welcome me home. I hope I am also worthy of that welcome.