Meeting at the Airport

With my book read, my soda gone, and those kids going nuts–the plane was late. But I really didn’t care. I’ve been waiting for this for two weeks. The scratchy intercom voice announced that flight 718 from Houston had arrived, and passengers would be arriving at gate F7. Finally. Gathering my things, I strode over to the concourse, and found an unobtrusive spot to stand that allowed me to see down the little aisle-way. One by one, the passengers streamed off. Every person that rounded the corner wasn’t the one I was looking for, and I strained to see who the next person was. Anticipation grew as the flow of passengers lessened, and then stopped. But it resumed again, and again I strained to see past all the people, trying to find that one recognizable face. My heart continued to beat faster and faster in anticipation. And then that face. That smile. In moments she was in my arms, and it was all worthwhile.

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