I sat and waited in the airport chair sitting on what passed for cushioning. Sure, from afar it looked like comfortable cushioning, but for a lady like me, it might as well have been those wooden chairs from back in school. Those chairs were designed purposely to make your back as straight as a pole and later you would feel as if you’d been beaten with it. I still remembered those school days fondly.
I remembered the day I graduated, was married, and had three children, last of which was James. Yet, as I sat there all those memories began to come crashing down around me as I stared at the gray hair peeking out from beneath the fake brown in my reflection in the airport window. Then the greater picture set in as the old woman stared right back at me.
James was the reason I sat there reliving those same memories. The reason I was stuck waiting in these damn chairs watching planes fly off while others landed. Every time I heard the roar of a plane motor or the excitement of the people around me upon seeing their loved ones, I turned to look and see if my boy had come back to me. Then, I had to sadly remind myself that James, his wife, and my two grandchildren weren’t scheduled to arrive for another ten minutes.
And so I sat alone, still thinking about my life. The day my son was born, the day he told me he was entering the military and being shipped to another country on another continent, the day he was engaged, married, and sure enough the birth of my two grandchildren. Most of all I remembered the bad days. I remembered the day I divorced my husband and not before long the day I was visiting his grave. No longer aware of my current surroundings, my eyes grew misty and tears threatened to slide down my face.
“Are you all right, ma’am?” The young man looked at me with an expression of worry. Was he asking because I looked like the fragile old woman that I was or was it because I looked pitiful?
Ignoring his statement I turned away and wiped the tear with the back of my hand. Using my hands on the armrests to pull me up I began to slowly rise from my chair and my bones creaked in ways only I could hear and my hip let out a groan of pain. It mockingly reminded me that yes, life hadn’t turned out the way I’d imagined.
“Yes, thank you,” I replied to him. Without turning back, I slowly walked to the bathroom.
After drying my eyes for a bit and making sure the young man had gone, I exited the restroom and returned once again to the waiting area. Having stayed for so long in the restroom, I was surprised to find that ten minutes had almost passed. Instead of sitting once again, I stood watching the planes and looking for the small military plane in which my son would be arriving.
I stood there for another couple of minutes until suddenly I was watching a small out of place and camouflaged plane coming down the runway. My heart constricted and I was given a breath of fresh air. This could be the one. I continued watching, my heart pounding all the while, as the plane landed and slowly rolled to a stop.
After a couple of minutes that seemed to turn into hours, I watched as the airport personnel placed stairs against the small plane and the doors first opened after the long journey. In my days it was a wonder to visit another country, much less to live there. From what I’d seen on television, my daughter-in-law and her children might as well be come to a different planet than the United States.
A minute later people began exiting the plane and I stepped as close to the window as possible in order to get a better look. I wondered if I’d be able to notice my family out of the crowd. I hadn’t seen them in many years, except for the pictures they would occasionally send. The people continued to file out slowly, usually blinking against the glare of the sun or stretching their limbs in the fresh air after their long fight.
A couple more people filed out and suddenly a girl exited. She stood on the top stair and looked around, probably taking in the sights around her. Then, she slowly made her way down the stairs one at a time, gently and carefully. At the final stair before the ground, she paused for a moment and collected herself, then made the final step. This was my granddaughter. My suspicion was at once confirmed when a young man I recognized as my son, his wife, and his son followed. There they all stood. My family.
I rushed as quickly as I could to wait in the hallway where they’d be entering once they’d gotten their luggage. After a couple of dreadful minutes of waiting and searching down the long hallway, I saw what I’d been missing for so long. My son was walking in my direction, so much older than I remembered. And for a moment I wondered who these three other people were with him. When he’d left he was so young, and now he was much older and with a family of his own. Once again I realized time had certainly passed me by and my eyes grew misty for the second time.
Finally, my family reached me and I held them in my arms. I could feel their warmth and smell their hair. They were really there with me. They’d finally come home.
Soon, we were on our way to the vehicles so we could leave this place and make our way home. We exited to the parking lot that contained row after row of Fords, Hondas, Toyotas, and other cars you saw everyday on the roads. My granddaughter stood in awe and I smiled.
After finding my car halfway down the lot and placing the luggage in the trunk, we were then on our way. We exited the airport and as we drove down the street, I looked at them sitting dopey eyed in the rearview mirror. A lone tear of happiness slid down my face. I smiled and quickly wiped it away before anyone could notice. Everything was going to be fine now.