Walking into the airport this afternoon I was filled with emotion. Part of my emotional response came from a sense of sadness because my daughter was leaving and it will be quite some time before I will get to see her again. However, even without my own personal drama, the two places that always touch some emotional part of me are airports and hospitals. After giving it some thought, I realized that these two places are the nucleus of constant change. It is at the Airport or the Hospital where someone important to me either came into my world or was removed from it.
My first memory of the airport was when my brother was being deployed to Vietnam. I was in kindergarten at the time and I didn't really understand what was happening. A few weeks later I went with my parents to see a movie and discovered the tragedies of war. I had nightmares for days afterward. To this day I still avoid war movies and the sight of a man in uniform boarding a plane makes my throat tighten with emotion.
As a teenager my boyfriend joined the air force. After taking him to the airport, and watching his plane lift off as he headed for boot camp, I felt intensely sad watching someone I cared about leaving for an indefinite period of time. I recall that I cried for some time after he left. When he got his first leave to return home, he stepped off the plane wearing a leisure suit that his mother had made for him. He had warned me ahead of time but that orange and green plaid suit with pants that were about three inches too short and the matching tie still made my jaw drop. Although the relationship didn't last, the memory of that suit is still fresh in my mind. It was a testament to his respect for his mother that he actually wore that suit in public. Each time I pass the old airport terminal I smile as I remember that orange plaid suit.
While he was alive, my father in law would visit us once a year. He would exit the ramp with his baseball cap that had a Blue Jay insignia on it. As he approached he would try to mimic an American accent and say "Well...Hello Guys!" I would laugh every single time. It hurts to know he is gone and that I will never again see that exit but I think of him each time I wait at the airport for someone to arrive or see a replica of his baseball cap.
As I watched my beautiful daughter walk off to board her plane I stood for a moment silently watching and remembering. Although my baby girl is a young woman now, in my mind I still sense the little girl who used to come with me to the airport skipping along beside me and talking nonstop. Her sweet smile and cheerful little voice helped ease the pain of the many goodbyes I had in airport terminals and her enthusiasm made the arrivals just that much more exciting.
I suppose that watching my little girl, who is now a young woman, walk toward her gate is simply part of life's rite of passage. We are born into the world only to spend the rest of our lives experiencing constant arrivals and departures before making our own permanent exit while that part in the middle remains at a place of constant change. I am looking forward to the day that either my daughter or I will step off of the airplane ramp for our next greeting. With each plane that I see fly overhead, I focus on this thought. I miss her and I look forward to that day more than she will ever know.
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