Present at the Airport

Sitting in the airport, people-watching the holiday travelers finding their way home, the space is crowded with absent people. Despite the occupied chairs and long lines, no one is really present; minds are cast forward to home and business-back-to-normal, memories are lingering over tables pulled out longer and lives reconnected and welcome home hugs too quickly become farewell embraces. No one is actually here, in the airport, in the uncomfortable seats, long lines and lugged luggage. With laptops whirring and ear buds entertaining, with an occasional book spread and ubiquitous cell phones dialing, with only an occasional eye flicked to the scrolling monitors on the wall, no one is really paying any attention to the people passing by, the weather outside, the person sitting nearby whose sagging carry-on is crowding your ankle, the service workers driving the beeping carts or pouring the overpriced coffee. That said, not even the service workers seem to be paying any attention, giving off every signal that they, too, would rather be anywhere but here.

It is transience in microcosm, hurried strides, panicked expressions, vacant stares, animated conversations -- some inane and others heartfelt and sensitive -- with some absent confidant, carried on in comfortable volume born of the assurance that no one else is around. And, of course, in a measure, they are correct. None of the bodies that crowd the space within easy earshot are really there. Faintly aware, perhaps, of a nattering and annoying buzz nearby, their minds are somewhere else. In every way that matters, they are simply not there.

Except, for one fleeting series of moments, me: present, if unwittingly so, to the woman sitting nearby talking too loudly into her cell phone to God knows who. I have now in my consciousness the name of the state in which she began her day, the different state where she would be spending her night, the business she would be transacting not only there, but in the neighboring cities as well. I can tell you that her travel schedule has kept her in the air and airports quite frequently of late, that she was surprisingly upgraded to first-class on her last leg, that she is weary, and that she looks forward to getting back home one of these days soon. And I can tell you that she is pregnant, with some kind of a stage 4 tumor that the doctors advise her not to have removed until the baby is born. “But I am doing fine,” she assured her telephonic confidant. “Really, I’m fine.”

I’ll take her at her word, but against my greatest wishes, I am present now with her and her reality. Present. And though she didn’t ask for my prayers – how could she? She had no idea that I was even present – I will remember her in them, praying that God bless her travels, her fatigue and renewal, her baby, and her health. Whoever she is.