Delta Flight 1225

The airport was crowded with Christmas Eve travelers. Each was desperately trying to beat Santa (and the weather) to destinations all across the country.  The mother unbuckled her four-year-old little girl from her carseat and carried her across the airport’s crowded parking lot.  Giant jets took off and landed like metal pterodactyls coming to a prehistoric nest.  High pitched whines of jet engines and low-grumbles of diesel engines made an exotic sonic symphony to the girl’s little ears.  A light snow fell, unusual for the South. It threatened to halt airport operations.  The closest snowplow was 400 miles away.

The little girl noticed all the different people walking past them when they got closer to the front entrance. A man with a whistle and a gun stopped traffic so they could cross a street choked with taxis and vans.  He winked at the little girl and blew her a kiss. She blew him one back.  The cold snow stung her cheeks, making them nearly as red as the bows in her hair. People drug, rolled and carried their luggage toward the front doors.  She panicked as her mom walked quickly and directly at the closed doors.  But to her relief, they opened automatically, allowing them inside. The warmth of the heated building gave them a proper Southern welcome.

Her mother put her down and held her hand as they walked toward a bank of giant television screens. On them were a bunch of letters and numbers — but no Dora the Explorer.  Her mom sighed, picked up her daughter and headed toward a crowded restaurant where other families were waiting.  The little girl pressed her nose against the cold glass and watched the giant white and grey birds doing their nimble ballet on the tarmac.  Each one of those planes held people trying to get home to loved ones.  Her mom bought her a cookie and they had tea at the window table as they waited.

In a few minutes, her mom once again went to check the TVs. Still no Dora, but her mom’s mood darkened.  The little girl did not know what “Delayed” meant, but it seemed to be serious. The weather had started  to get worse and there was talk that the airport might close.  It was one of the few times her mother had ever seemed worried.  “I hope Rudolph works for the airline,” her mom said as they watched the board.

The little girl had never felt so short in her life. Soon there were dozens of other families crowded around the boards, all looking to see if their loved ones’ flights had made it.  An announcement came on about the airport closing in 15 minutes.  The crowd grumbled and scrambled to make other travel arrangements.  Flights had been cancelled or at least rescheduled all across the country because of this storm.  Now it was their turn. The mother rubbed her temples, feeling a migraine coming on and trying to think what she would do next.  Christmas was about to be cancelled.

Just then, a man in an U.S. Army uniform swung her around and kissed her.  The mother, surprised, started to struggle. And then awareness kicked in and she kissed him passionately back.  The man then let go of woman and crouched down. “DADDY!” the little girl yelled as she ran to him. She jumped into his outspread, loving arms.

Christmas had arrived on time on Delta Flight 1225 from Germany.  And no snowstorm in the world could have ever stopped it.