I spoke to a friend on returning from the airport the other day. I had gone to receive my sister who'd taken a short trip away. This friend caught me smiling
like an idiot. She quite promptly gave me a sly smile and said, “So, what
happened at the airport?” “Not sure” (My
smile widened). I had one of those ear-to-ear smiles on my face and if you know
me, you know that it tends to look like I’ve either consumed too much sugar or
injected myself with something (No Ma, you know I don’t do that stuff.). “Liar!
Look at your face!”
“No really, I’m not sure…”
I’m incredibly over worked at the current moment and
unreliably moody. The only time I’d smiled in the last week was when a child in
the MRT had beamed at me to reveal 2 fallen teeth and I hadn’t had the heart to
not reciprocate. My mood was considerably light for the rest of the evening and
nearly everybody who spoke to me that day asked me the same question, “What
happened at the airport?”
But I wasn’t sure. It wasn't exactly..specific.
I couldn’t tell whether it was the fact that my sister had
returned after ten days away, only to be greeted by my smiling face. And how I’d
nearly dropped the paper bag containing banana cake (I never pick someone up
empty-handed. What if they’re hungry?)in my excitement to see her. Or whether
it had been the beautiful South American man who had caught my eye and given me
the widest smile? (If anyone knows him – tall, tanned with curly hair,
presently in this city - give him my phone number? Much appreciated. =P)
Neither was I sure that it wasn’t the consoling pats the hotel
chauffeurs were giving each other when their guests’ flight flashed delayed on
the information board. Nor the family of ten that burst into applause as their
baby girl walked through the airport door – her ‘Murican University hoodie
swinging merrily around her waist as she made her way over to them.
Maybe it was the little boy who ran into the arrival lounge (setting
off the security alarm) excitedly because he’d spotted his Dad hauling his
luggage off the conveyor belt. Or maybe the aged security guard who bemusedly
evicted a couple who were probably only meeting in transit and how he relocated
them to a less crowded area of the airport, just so they could have a few moments
of privacy.
It might have been the tall, reserved gentleman who held
flowers behind his back in anticipation of his beloved walking through the
sliding doors – any second now. Or maybe the delicately wrinkled Grandmother
who was sobbing out of sheer joy as she received her new-born grandchild?
“What happened at the airport?” "I'm not sure. I’m just
thinking about the moment I arrive at the airport in Bangalore; maybe I’ll
break into a run when I see Mom’s smiling face and slip into her open arms,
always waiting to welcome me.”
“Oh, come on, what REALLY happened?”
That, just that.
