I love the pin drop silence of Sunday mornings with my coffee – it is the quintessential feeling of home that resonates through these walls and I can only appreciate it after I’ve been gone for some time. Everyone sleeps in the house except Skye, who is gazing longingly outside at the birds, and me, gently clicking away on my laptop with the pattering of rain outside and the muted roar of the fireplace next to me. It is overcast outside….essentially a perfect Sunday morning for embracing quiet solitude and relishing getting lost in my own thoughts.
My welcome home yesterday at the airport was an event…after two weeks away…it was wonderful to feel that love and joy from my family upon my arrival. Though my flight was delayed over an hour, when I finally landed, I immediately started texting back and forth with my husband describing every subtle movement of the airplane, as if its’ each step would bring me closer faster. “We’re all waiting at Carousel 6,” he had written in a quick, precise text whose understated brevity spoke volumes. My last text back, “De-planeing,” meant to close our gap even further.
When I finally descended the escalator to baggage claim, half expecting welcoming smiles and my little boy to run up and hug me, there was no one. I look around, perplexed at the absence of the cavalry I had envisioned. But there, in the distance, I quietly observe my older son sitting on the edge of an empty conveyor belt. He is alone. He sees me but makes no effort to move….just presents me with a soft, tender smile whose warmth I can feel across the expansive hall.
As I walk toward him in my excited and exhausted state after 20+ hours of international travel, my older son, who lives most of his life in a continual state of “being unfazed by anything,” reads my questioning expression and un-asked responds, “They’re in the bathroom.” I tease him by saying, “Ah…well, you can get up ….!” He laughs and moves to envelope me in the biggest hug ever. That’s my older son – solemn, quiet, reserved, his actions speaking louder than he words ever would.
In the far distance, I catch my husband and younger son walking back towards us but they haven’t seen me yet…..until suddenly, a flash of brutal recognition evokes incredible smiles from both and a little boy, now already 10, runs feverishly in my direction, “Mommy!” I swoop him into my arms while my husband, just footsteps behind my son, screams hello with his bright eyes facing mine. In the ensuing shower of hugs and kisses, we officially become “that long lost family” at the airport, all eyes upon us.
Coming home was never so wonderful…..I just might have to go away again! 🙂