People-Watching

“Your Chardonnay,” the bartender said as he slid a buttery yellow glass of wine towards me, the long-stemmed glass already sweating. I nodded my head in thanks and took a sip, noting its popcorn-like smell. I always felt like Diane Keaton when I drank Chardonnay, the side effect of watching Something’s Gotta Give one too many times.

Scratch that.

You can never watch Something’s Gotta Give too many times. RIP Diane.

The airport bar was packed. Between harried travelers and their overstuffed luggage, there was little room for relaxation. It was two days before Thanksgiving and holiday travel plans were obviously in full swing. I’d arrived early for my flight, not wanting to risk getting caught in a long line at TSA, and planned to pass the time people-watching with a glass of wine. My phone buzzed with text, a silly selfie of my husband and son lighting up the screen.

Ben: What time is your flight?

Me: 3:30, should land at 6:10.

My heart squeezed as I set the phone facedown on the bartop. It had been a long week, my first work trip away from home since having my son. I cried in my hotel room every night and made Ben promise to show him pictures of me so he wouldn’t forget my face. Ridiculous, I know.

I took another sip of the crisp wine and watched the gate across from us. It was obvious the destination was somewhere tropical, everyone sitting at the gate was dressed in bright florals and palm tree patterns, a stark contrast to those of us dressed in autumnal sweaters. I watched as a couple, not much younger than myself, held hands and giggled in each other’s ears. They shared snacks and breathing space and inside jokes. The man fiddled with a gold band on his finger, still getting used to its presence. My thoughts wandered back to my own husband’s gold wedding band. I’d once thought there could never be anything more attractive than his strong, calloused hands - then I saw them for the first time with his wedding band. Perfection.

God, I was ready to get home.

An aisle over from the newlyweds, there sat another couple. They contrasted the fresh, blushing faces of the younger sweethearts with their deep smile lines and snowy hair, but they were beautiful all the same. They donned matching soft blue t-shirts, the words “OUR FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY” plastered across their chests. I sat and watched them for a while, polishing off my wine. They didn’t speak much, but existed in a quiet synchronicity with one another. They each read their books intently, holding each other’s weathered hands. When his wife would let go to turn her page, the husband would gently set his hand on her leg. When he let go to adjust his glasses, she laid her head on his shoulder.

My thoughts wandered again to Ben - what would we look like in fifty years? Would the lines in our faces reflect the years of laughter we’d shared together? Would there be lines from stress, tragedy even? What color shirts would we pick for our fiftieth anniversary trip?

“Can I get you another?” The bartender asked, startling me out of my own thoughts. “Oh…um…yes, that’d be great. Thank you!” One more glass to settle the twinge of flight anxiety I always seemed to get. I pulled my airplane book from my tote, a worn copy of Emily Henry’s Beach Read, and settled in to read for a bit. It was my comfort book, a rom-com the Nancy Meyerses and Nora Ephrons of the world could be proud of. Its warmth had helped get me through my dad’s cancer diagnosis and subsequent surgeries and it was now pulling me through this dreadful week.

—-

An hour and five chapters later, I closed out my bar tab and gathered my things. I started walking towards my gate, resuming my people-watching from earlier. I strolled past an airport gift shop where a man in a pressed suit was purchasing a souvenir teddy bear. I imagined the chubby-cheeked toddler he’d give it to when he got to where he was going. In front of me, two women stood looking at the departures board, talking loudly as power-walkers and suitcases navigated around them. “Sis, I’m telling you, they changed our gate. I’ve already checked the app and we need to head to C3. Grab your bag, let’s go.” It was said with the authoritative voice of a big sister - I knew it well, I’d spent most of my life being bossed around by my own big sister in that same tone. Like these women, she still bossed me around well into adulthood. She was also my best friend in the world and would do just about anything, legal or illegal, for me. I chuckled to myself as I steered my suitcase around them.

I arrived at my gate and took a seat near the windows. It was a habit to sit near them at this point. Whenever we traveled anywhere, Ben always camped out near the airport windows so he could watch the planes. He was an aviation nerd and even though he wasn’t here with me, I caught myself looking at the tarmac each time a plane got ready to take off. I longed again for home. Only a few more hours.

A mom followed her curious toddler to the window near me. The little girl was wobbly on her feet, but determined to make it as far as she could. She stumbled once, catching herself with her chubby hands, and quickly righted herself as her mom stood a few feet away, letting the little girl explore but keeping a protective eye. I watched as she determinedly made her way up and down the wall of windows, taking in the sights. Suddenly, her little foot caught on a stray bag strap and she flew forward, bumping her chin as she landed. As her face crumpled and her eyes welled with tears, the watchful mother swooped in with the gentle words and comforting hugs that heal any hurt. She placed a kiss on the bumped chin and then blew raspberries on each chubby palm, eliciting a slew of giggles from the little girl. As the tears gave way to more laughter, another woman approached with two large coffee cups in hand. She kissed the mom on the check and handed her one of the coffee cups, sliding her freed hand around her waist. They stood together, watching their daughter take off to conquer the wall of windows once again.

—-

The gate agent scanned my boarding pass. “Have a nice flight!” I smiled gratefully and walked onto the jet bridge. While we shuffled in the line, first on to the plane and then to our seats, I thought back on each of the little moments I’d been witness to that day. I'd glimpsed just a sliver of these lives and still seen so much tenderness. As I sat down in my seat, I typed out a quick text to Ben, needing an outlet for the wamth that was bubbling up.

Me: One step closer to my guys! Just boarded my plane. Can’t wait to be home with you.

Three dots quickly came back through and I stared at the screen, anticipating his text. A photo popped up - a selfie of him and our son.

Ben: Can’t wait to see our best girl!

I smiled, knowing I’d soon be home with my two favorite people, and I felt my heart squeeze again.