June 1, 2009

Airports.

You’d think I’d be used to them by now.  I’ve rushed through more than I can name and couldn’t possibly add up all the hours I’ve spent waiting on floors or sleeping in uncomfortable chairs.  I walk down concourses with no sense of panic and can take off my shoes and clear security before most people finish packing their gels and liquids into a Ziploc bag.

And still airports amaze me.  The steady rush of people.  The smell of overpriced, undercooked food.  The bookstores and magazines that no one can pass by.  The faces of businessmen, stern and focused.  The tears of homecoming.  The tears of leaving a life behind.  Yes, airports amaze me.

I guess it’s the state of limbo, the waiting to let go of the people that have seen me off in order to embrace the people that are waiting for me in the next place that’s on my list.

There’s the sense of independence, too, I suppose.  The knowing that I’m alone and capable and that if everything in the world goes wrong- the flight is cancelled or overbooked, my money runs out, my luggage is lost, my itinerary is a day off- whatever the case may be, that I can handle it, even if I cry sometimes.

Airports.

They give birth to confidence, provide a segue and an escape, and they personify my life in transition.  But this time as I wandered through Atlanta’s 563 concourses, I realized that I’m finally ready to stay home for awhile.

Or maybe just take someone with me for a change.

Posted in rambling, Uncategorized