Airports

    I have spent a significant amount of time in airports throughout my life-- from traveling overseas, to trips back and forth from Houston to the East Coast to visit friends and family. Generally, I enjoy them as they provide excellent people watching opportunities (one of my favorite things to do). They also hold the promise of exotic locales and depending on the airport, also the opportunity for some good eats.
    Recently, my parents were here visiting and as I pulled up to the curb to drop them off for their return flight to Philadelphia, I was struck by how sad airports are.  There was a couple in the car in front of me and as the wife got out to say good bye to her husband, she held him tightly, as if she didn't want to let him go. They embraced and kissed several times and then finally the husband left, while the wife stood there watching him go for several minutes. When I said good bye to my parents a few moments later, my mom started to cry and I made her leave before I started to cry too.
    This got me thinking back to November 2006-July 2007, when it seems like I was both anticipating and dreading every three week trip to the airport. Anticipating because every trip to the airport meant that I got to see Jon, my now ex-boyfriend and the reason I'm in Houston. He did the majority of the flying in our then long-distance relationship, so I would park the car and head to the closest point to the security checkpoint that was allowed so that I could see him before he even got to baggage claim. While I waited expectantly for him, I loved watching all the reunions taking place between family and friends who waited with me- soldiers and their families reunited, even if only for a weekend leave; wives picking up their husbands after a business trip; kids overjoyed to see a grand parent. All the signs, cards, balloons, cheering and tears of joy- it was so easy to get caught up in it all. It's really neat to be a part of those reunions, even as a bystander- the feelings of relief and joy and being complete are palpatable. There's something incredibly good for the soul about hugging a person as if you never want to let them go. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, watch the beginning 5 minutes of Love Actually and you'll get a good picture.
   But dreading also every trip to the airport, because it meant that Jon and I only had a short time together. Every hello was the beginning of our inevitable parting at the end of the weekend. While our car rides home from the airport were full of laughter and smiling, our car rides back to the airport were silent and somber. You'd think that saying good-bye at the airport would get easier, because you know what to expect since you've done it so many times, but let me assure you that it only gets harder and harder as that other person takes more and more of yourself with them. After Jon would walk into the terminal, I would often stand there for several minutes, simultaneously trying to will him to come running back like you see in the movies and watching other people saying good-bye. People clinging desperately to their loved ones; not wanting to let go, crying; kids trying to run after the person leaving or having a tantrum because they couldn't go along. The worst was always seeing uniformed men and women with their duffel bags saying good bye to their family or friends. You could see the anguish on the faces of those being left behind, wondering if this would be the last time they would ever see this person.
    Even in those happy reunions past the security check point or at the baggage claim, there's still sadness because you know there will be another business trip, or tour of duty, or goodbye.