“It’s not much,” she said, “just a little letter of everything we already talked about.”
I believed her. Caught up in trying to conceal my emotions, I stuffed the envelope into my bag. Two weeks, once a year, was becoming shorter and shorter. The long travel time was never fun; but every year it was becoming more necessary. Prioritizing family always was.
Hugging her goodbye and kissing “my” babies, I forced back my tears. I don’t know why, but I always thought I have to appear put together. Perhaps, it’s from wanting to leave with the lasting impression that I’m stronger than I really am. I was usually a big coward, though, she already knew that. Especially when I’m doing anything alone.
I used to have mini panic attacks when driving down the street. Occasionally, I still do, if it’s a new unknown place. But that’s more because I despise driving. Yet here I was, doing this terrifying solo trip for the fourth time. And it was always worth it.
I also despise airports, but planes are not so bad. Just let me keep my window open please, and thank you very much. I never understood how people can go a whole flight with their windows closed. “You are living in a time unprecedented for most who have lived on this earth,” I implore them in my mind. “How can you not be amazed by the awe-inspiring achievement that is flight? How can you not be amazed at witnessing God’s creation from the sky?” I think about these things every time I fly, and soak in as many interesting views as I can.
The longest flight was overnight. I couldn’t sleep or get comfortable. I never could on planes.
My layover was a few hours in Atlanta, then it was one more quick flight home.
The thing about airports is, I despise them for how small they make me feel, but I also am intrigued by how small they make me feel. Anytime I’m in a crowd of more than two, I like to observe. And airports are always full of interesting characters.
Like the Spanish-speaking woman curled in a seat in a crowded area, crying while talking on the phone. She didn’t even try to keep her conversation private. Not that most people understood her. I couldn’t.
Or the couple traveling with two small, white dogs, who, you could tell, knew they were the babies of the family. Just looking at the appearance of the husband, tattooed and muscular, I surmised he would never have dogs like that if he weren’t married. So seeing him holding these little divas on their leashes was both comical and almost hard to watch.
Then there are the families or groups of friends that travel together. These people I’m jealous of. They are making so many wonderful memories flying together. And one day, they might look back on these trips with fondness. And if they don’t, they will not know that I have vicariously found the fondness for them.
The same goes for traveling couples, of any age. One day, Lord willing, may I be in a position like them. But for now, I am blessed to witness such relationships from afar.
People watching will never not be fascinating. But as I said, it does make my life feel far less significant. Most people are nobodies to most other people. Yet in these times, where crowds gather, I feel a stronger pull toward God, and ponder on how he knows every individual, every heartache, and every need of every person. If He can see them, He certainly sees me.
The last flight home was both the most anticipated and the most depressing part of the trip. I sat next to a mom with her infant daughter and young son. I had the window seat and made sure to open both of the accessible windows, glad to see the little boy take advantage of this when the plane took off. Always open your windows.
When I wasn’t looking out the window, I couldn’t stop watching those kids. They were so adorable and so well-behaved, yet the mother seemed a little stressed to control them at times. Or overly self-conscious for their best behavior. I probably looked like a creep for staring. I wanted to ask if I could hold the baby, but never did. It might have been for the best anyway, since I was able to catch up on a little of my lost sleep.
When I arrived at my final destination, I still had some waiting to do before my ride would come.
Sitting by the exit, just inside the security checkpoint, I did who-knows-what on my phone while I waited. I probably reviewed some chapters from my book, read some other book reviews, or watched videos. Then, I did some more people watching or listening to the person’s phone conversation nearby. It was English, but I still had no concept of what he was talking about. Then it was quiet enough where I only had my thoughts to listen to.
Only then did I remember the letter, and I eagerly pulled it out.
The envelope was thicker than I remembered, and I immediately guessed why. When I opened it, I choked back the tears, as I relived all the memories of the past two weeks printed out for me. Some of the photos, I had even taken myself with my own phone… Some of them candid moments I had no idea she snapped. Some were taken just a few days before. When had she printed these?
I struggled again to hide my tears. Then, I read the “little letter” which was supposed to contain “all the things we already talked about.” My sister has no idea, but maybe now she does. How much my heart ached to get on another plane.