Arrivals Gate

I picked the boys up early from school yesterday so we could park and go into the airport. It felt like everyone was driving 15 miles under the speed limit…. But that served as a good reminder for me to slow the heck down. We got to the airport, parked, and hiked inside. There is something special about an arrivals gate, isn’t there?

I’d had my heart in my throat all day and here all around me where people feeling the same way. And this was prime people-watching for me:


There were a lot of men with flowers. One man in particular had a dozen white roses, for his wife or girlfriend I don’t know. But when she walked toward him she was already crying, she hugged his neck and they just stood like that for several minutes. It was hard not to cry myself.

There was an older couple waiting, too. Turns out they were waiting for their daughter and her family. As soon as the family came through the daughter hugged her father and grandma scooped the baby out of the stroller. The baby cried….they all cried.

There were drivers with signs (who I’m guessing did not cry), there were friends waiting for friends, there were sons and daughters waiting for parents. And there were a lot of wives and children waiting too….just like me.

We stood in one spot for 40+ minutes. It is hard enough as an adult, torturous for the boys. It was crowded, noisy, and hot. I stood holding their hands while watching the steady stream of passengers as they came through customs, always hoping that the next one would be D. I glanced twice at any men wearing a light blue shirt of the same height and weight. Finally I saw him, and he saw us.

At that moment, my heart and stomach went back to their original positions, and I took my first deep breath in four months.