A Kiss in the Middle of Chaos
It’s a random Friday evening at Sea-Tac Airport, but it may as well be Christmas Eve. I’m not sure why so many bodies are passing through this port at 10:30 PM, but my comprehension won’t change a thing. There is construction, always construction. You can hear jackhammers pounding away at concrete and steel on the curb outside. Baggage screen computers aren’t working. Already tight walkways are being bottlenecked by plywood sheets narrowing every pedestrian passage.
Three different emotions float through the air - frustration, exhaustion, and pure bafflement. A perfect cocktail if you want to ruin the social vibe. Everyone is frustrated because the situation feels unacceptable. How could the airport plan so poorly that this level of construction is happening in the same place at the same time? Everyone is tired because it’s late at night and you know there is no way to speed up your exit. Everyone is baffled, because why is it so busy, and where did all these people come from, and where are they going in such a rush?
My daughter and I are here to return home for the weekend. Although we have enjoyed two months of travel, laughter, and new adventures, the time for her to get back to normal life has arrived. She chose it herself. It was up to this ten year old whether to stay with mommy and daddy for three more weeks, or return home to hug her friends, learn from teachers, and dance with a real instructor. Parents aren’t the same as friends, parents make for frustrating teachers, and parents know nothing about dance. Home she goes!
Things have gone well thus far. Great in fact. Traveling with her gets easier every year. She becomes more self reliant, and is able (more like willing) to carry her own bags. She is more curious, reading every sign and pointing out where to go as if I am lost. She thinks traveling is a blast. Her positive attitude rubs off, and we pretend flying is the height of luxurious travel.
Then eventually, half way through the flight, the walls start to crumble, and pretending becomes impossible. The seats are cramped. The flight is too long. The shows downloaded on the iPad have concluded. Worst of all, there’s still time on the clock. So we distract ourselves. We play silly games, use wacky voices, and go through all our little inside jokes, mannerisms, and weird faces to make each other laugh. We are doing it. We are staying strong.
Until we land, descending into the depressing depths of an airport full of humorless people. When we finally make it outside, our ride calls us. He is a quarter mile away, but the cars are moving at a snail's pace. We will be here for a while.
Then I see something that snaps me out of my frustration. Something so pure that I lose sight of all the chaos around me. A woman pulls up to the corner. A man rushes toward the car. They meet at the driver's door and embrace in a kiss. Not just any kiss, a kiss that revealed two human hearts full of emotions. They missed each other deeply. Longed to be back together. They felt joy. They felt complete. As they got closer to one another, it was as if a magnetic field pulled them together. The force of mother nature wanted them near each other.
And in that moment, all the crazy around me faded to the background. None of it mattered anymore. With the possibility of these kinds of reunions, the airport can be a magical place. It symbolizes long distances and great adventures. Travel to the other side of the planet, anywhere you desire. And when you return, your bones aching for the embrace of that person who means more than anything, they will be there, ready to welcome you home.
You can’t fake these moments. The utter joy on the faces of those two people was unmistakable. Yes everything surrounding them was exploding in frustration, but they couldn’t see it. They couldn’t see anything except each other. We all want that moment.
Being reminded of what was truly important, I put my arm around my daughter and hugged her. Love is contagious.
