Airport Day!

I’m standing just outside security at the airport, eyes trained on the passengers coming from the concourse. Always before, I’ve been the one walking off the plane, eagerly bringing a new baby home to meet the rest of the family. This time it is my turn to do the waiting, camera ready to document the homecoming of a friend and her new baby boy.

I love airports. There are a thousand reasons people take a plane on any given day. But for me, airports have almost always meant a baby. I scan the exiting passengers. Men in camouflouge freshly home from Iraq walk alongside wives who were allowed to greet them at the gate. Businessmen with briefcases stride briskly through the crowd towards cabs and hotels and tomorrow’s meetings. Grandmas smile at the body-slamming greetings of forty-two pound grandchildren.

Across the hall from me, the three year old big sister of this new baby is lying on the floor, belly-down, chin on hands, staring intently at the hordes of people streaming out. Grandparents and a friend stand protectively over her, making small talk and looking at their watches.

Standing here waiting for my friend has me thinking of the brutal flight home from Ethiopia with a new child. By the time you land in your hometown, the adrenaline kicks in and somehow you cry and smile and hug your way all the way home and bed. But the in-between, the many many grindingly long hours shut up on the plane are an exhausted blur that sometimes seems it will never end.

Finally, I spot my friend, tall and slim and radiant, hair braided Ethiopian-style, carrying a chubby, bright baby boy, and walking alongside her tired, smiling husband. The glow on her face makes me think of the rush some women get right after giving birth. They chatter and smile and glow in exhilaration, flanked by husbands who look like they’ve been doing battle.

My friend spots me and smiles, then scans the crowd for her family. I call across to them, “They’re coming!”

There is an exuberant teary-eyed rushing-together. Both parents kneel down to eagerly greet the daughter they haven’t seen for a week. She hugs her mom happily and stares in delight at her new brother, who looks up at her wide-eyed.

Wiping her eyes, my friend savors the meeting of her children. She’s tired, I can tell up close. But the glowing memory of this moment, with her family all finally, blessedly together, will be one she treasures forever.

You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.