There is something unsettling about the hustle bustle of a 6:30 am arrival at the airport. Especially for someone for whom quiet and calm are the normal starts to her day.
Though, after 8 days with my grandchildren hustle and bustle is the order of everyday. From start to finish. And that’s a hustle and bustle I love. The guest room at my daughter’s home is on the entry level. The main living one floor up. The family bedrooms another floor up. Every morning when I’m visiting I hear the pounding of small feet coming down the stairs to the living area and my heart skips a beat. They’re up!
If they don’t come down to get me ( which is the normal routine) I quickly finish off what I’m doing and climb up to join them. Usually, the first thing I hear is my almost 4 year old granddaughter calling out, “YiaYa!” My grandson who at six is truly the epitome of ‘growing up too fast’ rushes over to give me one of his fierce hugs and my heart keeps dancing its wild tattoo of love for these little beings who are pure joy in my world. This morning, the house was still asleep when the taxi arrived just before 6 to take me to the airport. Last night we’d said our goodbyes full of hugs and kissed and empathic “I love You’ delivered as only an almost four year old who leans towards the dramatic can deliver it.
And now, my heart full. My body weary, I sit and wait for my 8:30 departure home. With relative ease I navigated the unruly hustle bustle of bag drop and security, stood in the long line to get my coffee ( an early morning travelling priority) walked back to the other end of the terminal where my gate is to sit in the relative quiet of waiting of waiting for my flight.
People walk past. Pulling suitcases, some with children in tow or wrapped securely against their chest. In a corner at the other side of the waiting area a group of four young men chatter in an unknown to me language. And then a sharp staccato of laughter bursts forth from the group
Laughter is universal. It bridges distance. Language. Culture, race and faith. Just like love.
I’ve spent a week with my grandchildren. Love fills my heart pushing away the sadness of departure. The weariness of the continuous motion of the last 8 days leaving only room for love and laughter.
I navigated the hustle bustle of the early morning airport. Thanks to the love and laughter of my visit, my heart is full of joy.