The Airport & The Long Good-bye

The bathrooms are clean. The carpet is vacuumed. The airport is a clean place. A safe place, where people can feel secure. Everything is on camera, and everyone is being watched. Someone is watching everyone. I wonder if that would be a fun job. Just to sit and watch people all day long. I find as well a spectator myself, nodding off at the departure gate.

My arm is stiff and falling asleep, propping my head up on these uncomfortable metal arm rests. My cheek is red from my hand pressing up against it. My glasses are lifting up from the bridge of my nose. Every part of my body aches. I lift my right leg over my left and shake it relentlessly. It's a violent mix of anxiousness and exhaustion; restlessness and anguish. My stomach is grinding food that isn't there.

So there on their black and white screens they can see me, blissfully going absolutely nowhere. They're laughing at me, at least because I decided they are. I did, after all, give them every reason to chuckle at my expense. My bag is still strapped around my shoulder resting in my lap. I'm wearing high-water jeans because I packed all my good jeans the night before. I've got a five o'clock AM shadow caked onto my face and grumpy, droopy eyes. I'm sure they'd be laughing at me.

But, as I imagine (and I imagine a lot), they're too busy watching the people saying good-bye to one another instead. Every flight is it's own romance movie plot turn. Will they come back? Will their love ever be the same? Is he coming back a woman? You know, the usual stuff that goes on in romance movies. I'm sure it's an emotional affair to all the people watching. Even I, a simple on-looker, am taken aback by the non-stop, unashamed affection being displayed at the airport. You see love for what it really is there - a blind dedication to another human being.

They don't realize that everyone is looking at them. They just want that one last hug and good luck kiss before he goes off for that out-of-state sales pitch. They just want to say good-bye to that lifelong friend leaving for Singapore to be a missionary full time. They just want to see that a friend makes it home safe. They just want to shake the hand of a good business partner. They just want a picture with that quasi-celebrity.

Haven't you ever noticed that? When it comes to saying good-bye, no one else seems to matter. You temporarily are granted complete tunnel vision, and the only thing in the world that means a damn to you is whoever you're parting ways with. The only thing disheartening about that state of being is that the person you're so focused on also happens to be the person leaving you soon.

When I was single, things were much more simple. When I was going some place for awhile, I said good-bye to my folks and that was that. They cried sometimes, but I was for the most part emotionally un-phased. The first time I felt detached enough to carry an emotional response was after my first week of being at college. I didn't realize how much I'd missed home since I got there. My body ached for home. It ached for the simplicity of resting my head on my father's chest, watching TV. I ached for nights in the kitchen goofing off with my siblings while we made dinner. I ached for conversations with my mom in the living room, and a cup of iced tea on the lawn. So, I cried. I cried for almost a half-hour. All of the sudden, my home was somewhere else.

It stayed that way for quite sometime. Home became a get-away. I even started dating someone at home. Suddenly that home comfort became that person's comfort, and when that ended badly I again felt extremely detached. I stayed away from home, running from my pain I guess. I cried at night because I didn't know where home was anymore. Slowly but surely, I made my living quarters at school my home. I took care of my space like my parents took care of ours. I babied it. I vacuumed it. I cleaned the bathroom. Maybe that's why they keep airports so clean. They want it to feel like home as much as possible to those who are leaving.

When I fell in love, my lover lived elsewhere. But I no longer attached her to where my home (my house) was. Soon, wherever she was, that's where home was. I still visited my house, and I still laid in my father's arms, but it felt different. Not in a bad way by any stretch, but different none the less. I no longer needed this place to feel at home. All I needed was my lover to feel truly at home.

We need that security when we're getting ready to leave. We need to know everything is going to be okay. You need the one you love. I need the one I love. Oh my God, there she is.

The Long Good-Bye

Paper and pad
Dufflebag
Backpack and luggage
All my weight to carry on
If only I could bring you along
My love; stay safe and warm
While I am gone
Carry me in your pocket
Hear me when I cry
This is our long good-bye
But I won't be gone for long
Call me all the time
Stay with me on the phone
When I lay down
You came with me
I hear your voice while I am sleeping
In my dreams
My love; your breath is heaven
My lungs are overflown
The plane passes overhead
We haven't got much longer
I'll stay until your ready
"Are you ready?"
You say; though you know
I never really am
Stay safe and warm
While I'm away and you're at home
This is our long good-bye
It's time
I love you