When I was the mother of one toddler son, my job took me out of town for an unspecified period of time when I left. I don’t know how my husband and son fared, but I was miserable after more than a week away. When I was found crying in the bathroom at my temporary work place, the higher-ups decided they could return me to a position that would allow me to live at home, rather than staying in a motel out of town, though my schedule would continue to include twelve hour days.
Family and friends were allowed to wait at the gate for flight arrivals in those days, so my husband and son were there. Despite the late hour, my son was wide awake when I came through the door into the airport. His greeting revealed sheer delight at seeing his mom again, and it was reciprocated on my own face! As if that weren’t enough to erase all the sad tears of my previous days away, as I stood by his crib to say good night, he looked up with a most contented smile. It’s a smile that continues to beam in my heart whenever I remember that night.
Fast forward to the present. Last weekend, my husband and I flew to Texas to visit our other son, his wife, and our third grandson. It was a wonderful trip, allowing for much Nana time, as I did all I could to affix my face and voice permanently into his little three-month-old brain. As great as those moments with him (and his parents) were, our arrival home was the icing on that cake.
To avoid parking charges, our older son – the one who greeted me that night so long ago – drove us to the airport to drop us off before dawn Friday morning, necessitating a return trip Monday to pick us up. Unlike in the first story, family and friends now wait in the main concourse of the airport for arriving passengers to emerge from the long corridor of gates where planes deposit their loads.
As we approached the waiting area, I searched for my son who stands taller than most, without success. When I stepped beyond the security area, however, a distinct and increasing sound was evident above the din of the airport noises. “Aaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” This cry of delight was in motion, attached to a precious little boy who grinned from ear to ear as he ran from his father to the people he had apparently missed terribly.
Without focusing on the face or discerning the voice above the din of airport noise, I knew the source of that cry was headed my way. Down went my backpack and purse so nothing would interfere with my open arms as he came in for a landing, first to Nana, then to Grandpa. Nearby onlookers chuckled at the exuberant welcome, but my focus was only on the child, my first grandchild, the son of the son who had forever etched his own delighted welcome in my heart so many years ago. Like father, like son.
No lesson in this post – it’s just a slice of my life. Hope you enjoyed.