A five-hour airport layover gives you plenty of time to think. And in my case I was staring out the window at a sign that was so familiar, it brought back a rush of memories.
M and I moved to Tallahassee, Fla. just after we married, so he could go to law school (and I could finish my own education) But we made many trips back to Rochester, NY over the years, usually through Atlanta on the old Eastern airlines.
This sign was always the first thing I saw on the ground when we landed and the last thing I saw when we took off.
Eastern is long gone now, and so is our time in Tallahassee, which I left in 1984 for my grand California adventure. But I realized that I’d seen that sign for more than 50 years, any time I passed through the Atlanta airport. It was a marker on my way “home”.”
And again, this time, I was heading for my hometown.
When I walked off the plane in Rochester and headed down the corridor I could almost see my mother, smiling and waving excitedly from the little half-circle area at the end of the hall, where people used to wait for passengers in the day when airport security didn’t exist. The little area is still there, empty of waiting family members.
But in my mind, every time I get off a plane in Rochester, my mother is there, waiting and waving at the end of the corridor.
She’s there.
Oh, to have her back now. What I wouldn’t give.
So many memories in a sign most people don’t even notice.
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Awww! Welcome to Atlanta. If you ever have another 5-hour layover, holler and I’ll come meet you in the food court for a cup of coffee!
They’ve gutted the flight schedule so much that could happen, Lisa! I will keep that in mind, for sure!
This is so sweet and poignant. Funny, the things that end up dredging up memories, many times “ordinary” things we never expected to.
It always amazes me…
Beautiful post, beautiful memory. To have her back again…
Thank you, dear Beth.
There’s no place like home; there’s no one like Mom. It’s good to remember.
There’s no place like home; there’s no one like Mom.
Nope. There really isn’t.
The things that bring up memories. And, for what it’s worth, my first airplane flight was on Eastern, in 1966.
Those were the days!