It’s an unlikely spot for such joy. Noisy, lots of concrete, chaotic, confusing. And the joy only goes maybe 20 seconds before it moves on to other locations. But those brief eruptions happen all day, every day. You’re probably within a few miles of this spot. Mine’s about 45 minutes away; I was there again this week.
The curb at the arrival level at your airport.
Little mini-reunions occur constantly with quick handshakes, man-hugs, real hugs, smiles and shouts. You toss the bags in the back, slam the doors and you’re off. The joy continues down the road in all directions, gradually diluted from that concentration back at that 100-yard stretch of concrete.
It’s a spot where the problems of separation and distance and time are resolved all in one moment. Yeah, I’m thinking the same thing: A blurry little peephole into heaven.
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