The Airport

The old Chevrolet Impala was as long as a battleship and contained as much steel.  The little boy climbed into the backseat and plopped down. He wore a suit and his face wore a grin.

Today was the big day. Today was the day he was going to the airport.

His grandfather opened the door for his grandmother. She climbed into the passenger seat, turned around and asked her grandson, “You excited?” The smell of her perfume tickled his nose.  The little boy nodded rapidly. In his joy, he had forgotten how to speak.

The little boy loved airplanes. He knew everything about them including their names, their histories and how they looked.  On that hot summer day in 1974, his grandparents were going to take him to city’s airport to watch commercial flights take off and land. Like the planes that soared into the sky, the little boy was as close to Heaven as you can get on this earth.

The Impala crunched over the gravel driveway and his grandfather turned right onto the street.  They headed toward the big city and before you could say, “Orville and Wilbur Wright,” the big Chevrolet was parked in the airport’s hourly lot.  His grandfather opened his door and said, “C’mon. We have some jets to see.”

“Can I get a Coke, too?” the boy asked hopefully.

“Don’t push your luck.” his grandfather teased.

The boy held each of his grandparents’ hands.  They walked into the brand-new terminal, passed through security and went up to the observation area.  There was a Delta Boeing 727 taking off!  And one of the cargo airlines had a Douglas DC-3 starting to taxi out to the runway.  A Douglas DC-9 approached from the far end of the field. Across the runway, he could see the Air National Guard base.  There was something magical about this airport. People boarded planes and traveled the globe.  Every flight represented adventure. Every flight took the passengers to a new life.

Another DC-9 pulled up to the gate.

The little boy couldn’t be happier.

Thirty-seven years later, a little boy had grown up into a weary traveler. Back in town on business, he walked into the same airport and looked around.  Memories flooded his soul. His beloved grandparents had died long ago. He took a breath.  He swore he smelled his grandmother’s perfume. He closed his eyes and dropped his carry-on bag. And then, he felt his grandparents holding his hands. He looked to his right and then to his left and saw them smiling back at him.  For a brief moment, they had come back alive.

All the hassle of flying faded away. He had become the little boy who saw airports as places of adventure. And as he headed toward his gate, he let go of  his grandparents’ hands and waved goodbye. They smiled and waved back. Then they faded into the crowd of weary passengers.

He boarded his flight back home and felt his heart soar like the planes climbing into the sky.