You know what’s cool? Having an adult son who is more than willing to hang out with his Momma and show her all around his city.
You know what’s strange? Walking through the Denver airport when I first arrived and being flooded with a memory I hadn’t thought about in years. A memory of being delayed at the Denver airport for ten hours with two small children. My children, of course, and while I did my best to entertain them, I was tired and they were energetic with sticky hands and busy minds. In that moment, life felt exhausting. Everything felt exhausting. A quiet, empty area in the corner of a terminal became our refuge, the comfy chairs arranged around a small table, not typical waiting-to-board chairs, thankfully, and we camped out there with our gear and kid backpacks and no telling what all.
At some point, an elderly couple joined us, and we adopted each other because they too were stuck at the airport trying to get to Dallas. At some point, Kelsey and Tate taught the elderly couple to play a certain card game, the name of the game I don’t remember, and for hours we played game after game, chatting and laughing, and the time passed as quickly as possible.
Friday, as I walked through the same airport in Denver, I found myself thinking about that couple. And I found myself looking for that quiet corner with the comfy chairs. Looking for glimpses of us back then, sitting together, me no doubt harried, the kids no doubt bouncing off the walls, and the elderly couple helping me by just being there.
At the time, I couldn’t imagine anything beyond getting back home to Dallas. And I’m sure I was counting down the hours before I had to be at work the next morning. Thinking about mounds of dirty laundry that needed to be washed and groceries that needed to be bought. I was master of counting down to things and shuffling schedules and getting from Point A to Point B. And I probably checked the flight status periodically and made trips to the bathroom with the kids and bought lots of snacks at the food court. But in no way during that entire long day that blended into night did I imagine returning years later to visit my son who now calls Denver home.
Friday as I walked toward baggage claim, the airport dished up a déjà vu feeling because of that one time I spent so much time there. And no, although I looked, I never saw us, not as we were. But I saw a dark-haired kid tug on his Momma’s hand, his eyes as bright as my son’s, the tug on my own heart fresh and sweet. And a little girl with a bouncy blonde ponytail and a pink backpack strapped to her thin shoulders made me do a double take.
Yes, we left a tiny part of our story there, I could feel it, as I walked through throngs of people living similar yet different stories. Love all around.
Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.
[tweetthis]My deja vu moment at Denver Airport @visitdenver #loveactually[/tweetthis]
P.S. more coming soon on my trip to Denver!
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