L U N A T A L K with Eva Moon

Disappearing/Reappearing Airport

July 31, 2008 on 12:34 pm | In General Musing, Travel |

When I went to the airport this morning to pick up my son (returning from four months in Japan) I figured I might be waiting awhile, so I brought a notebook along with the intention of writing. It turned out to be much more interesting to watch the arrivals.

They came up the escalator in spurts as Customs and Immigration released them into the sea of waiting family and friends. One after another, they rise to the surface like travel-stained Aphrodites, eyes scanning the supplicants on the shore.

Then there’s this moment: The instant a familiar face swims into view. You can see it every time. Suddenly the airport disappears for that person. The long hours of travel, the search for bags, the endless wade through customs all fall away and there is nothing in the universe but the face of someone who loves you.

Of course the world reappears a few moments later as each group begins the next leg of the journey from airport to home. But it was a wonderful hour that left me misty and smiling. Some moments:

Fifteen diminutive Japanese school girls in matching white blazers clustered like ducklings around the American tour guide who was there to greet them. Poof.

A trio of Japanese moppets flinging themselves into the arms of a tall white-haired American with shouts of “Grandpa!” Poof.

A shriek from the back and a dash to the top of the steps by a tall, thin blond girl who engulfed a pretty Japanese brunette. They stood there for several minutes, blocking traffic while the blond wept, petted her friend’s hair and said, “Please don’t ever leave again” over and over. Poof.

A tiny elderly duo greeted by their son with bows instead of hugs, but no less warmth and joy. Poof.

A heavy American in shorts, flip-flops and a t-shirt with a drill printed on it inexplicably carrying nothing but a Hamilton-Beach blender under one arm. No poof for him.

The passing of a chubby baby from the arms of her mother to the arms of her grandmother, perhaps for the first time. The grandmother held her as if sheer love could melt the baby into her body and keep her there. Poof.

A heavy, middle-aged woman capering with excitement at the sight of her old dad. I could see the giddy little girl inside. Poof.

At long last, my weary son’s head rises into view. It took him a few seconds to find me. Poof!

See more like that one:

• It's Like a Fish. But It's Not a Fish.
• Murder Most Foul
• Rolling Downhill
• Peach City Shakedown
• Small Miracles in the Air