Born in different time zones
Most everyone has strong feelings about the airport. There are people who love it and people who dread it. The airport is a place where time and space come alive in a way they never did in your physics book. "Here" and "not here", so real and joyful - or painful - illustrated by the effect of just seconds passing.. One... two... three... gone! One... two... three... here! Then there are the plane rides, eliminating whole chunks of the day or night by way of simple speed. You turn the dials on your watch as if it was all a game, as if minutes and hours were arbitrary. The airport will leave you feeling vulnerable, euphoric, destroyed, bored and most of all exhausted.
As I was dropping off my mother on Saturday I caught sight of a couple. They were standing close, she was crying. They weren't hugging, their body language looking a little hopeless... as if it was all no use anymore since in a few minutes the separation will have taken place. One... two... three... gone! I remembered immediately my first trip to the US in summer of 1999. I had gone to visit Lincoln, my new boyfriend, who I had just met five months before that. We had spent three weeks together that summer and had already discussed marriage. We were on the relationship fast track. The fastest track. But it was time to say goodbye for another four months. It was Chicago O'Hare. I was crying my eyes out. I could not stop. I am usually not a public cryer, but I was just completely overwhelmed. I did not want to leave. At the same time I knew this was something completely out of the ordinary. I was sad, but the reason I was crying was not the realization how yet again things were not going to work out or fear that I'd be forgotten. I was crying, because I had to separate from this perfect thing that had appeared in my life. It wasn't complicated, it wasn't confusing, it was not going to be a source of heartache, it was just good in every possible way. We were sad but determined. The airport provided the scenery for the moment we had to actually live the decision we had made. The countdown of remaining minutes emphasizing the timelessness of what we were feeling.
Now for me the airport is a constant reminder of the pain and joy we have since invited in our life. Always driving down the point of the limitations of time and space it exposes the love we have for each other. We visit it to see family and friends, we visit it to see them off. My children will know no other life than routinely climbing into planes and getting out of them. The drive to the airport is our personal pilgrimage. Together with all the other people we will fall apart in public, or sigh in joy and relief, a privilege in many ways.
Last Saturday, just like every other time, my mother and I drove to the airport. We stood in line, we dropped off the luggage. We had our coffee in the usual spot. And then we said goodbye, thinking, "I love you, here or not here.", suddenly feeling acutely every second and every inch. That last part, courtesy of The Airport.
Posted at 11:30 AM on November 30, 2009
Oh, what a wonderful, perfect way to capture the life of an expatriate. Thanks again for sharing your beautiful thoughts. In one week I'll be airborne and I'll just have spent most of the day (from 12 to 10 pm) inside two airports. It's very comforting to know that other people understand how we feel. It's just one more of the gifts of blogging.
What a great post.
I know exactly what you mean. I go through these same feelings every time I am at the airport, leaving or going. Joy or sadness. And I have been dealing with this for quite some time now too, since 2000 when I first met Mike.
Your post sums it all up very nicely.
I'll be in Austria Dec.3-14 and am expecting the same whirlwind of emotions as usual.