Not a great family photo or even an acceptable LAST family photo for such an epic experience as this, but we were distracted with the process of getting home and missed the ceremonial significance of one last photo, a bookend to our first photo on the porch. Maybe it’s poetic this way. It captures it all. It is 3:00am. On this trip, the majority of photos are taken by me but usually I’m in it somehow- my shadow or my bag is there somewhere. In this one my pack isn’t even in the photo because it’s on my back. Collected in line, we were standing together but a bit stunned. We were goin home, but we were faced with the possibility that we might not be going home as planned.This is the line that took an hour and forty-five minutes. The first fortyfive minutes we moved 25 feet. The line makes a turn to the left up there, disappearing into the abyss. It was the line to check-in. Online check-in was not working for us, and apparently everyone else as it turned out, so we knew we’d have to get checked in at the counter before our 6am flight. Not a big deal. Or not too much of a big deal. That is until we learned last night that the airport security workers are currently on strike, suggesting travelers should be at the airport three hours in advance of departure. Ok, 3 am, it is. Well, it should have been 4 hours in advance.Oh. My. Gurd. That is a sea of humanity.
This was the line for security. I use the term line loosely. This is only the part that would fit in the frame. THIS is the security line at an airport where there is a strike, not your garden variety, but rather the kind of security line that is in the verge of becoming an angry, sleepless mob. We haven’t experienced this exactly before… hmm, something new for the trip. It appears the new experiences can legally keep happening until you actually get home.
Well, it was dicey but it worked out. Later we would experience another “something new” by way of the Paris airport. That’s something. There also narrowly missing our flight.
Maybe this is the last photo I was seeking this morning.
Homage to our baggage.
There they go, our appendages. Actually, I see Aidan’s bag has already slid down the beltway. They look so small in this photo, different from how huge they feel on our backs and in our hands. Last time they’ll be assembled on this trip, lined up like little well-behaved circus trick dogs, waitig for the next showtime. Tricks performed daily were small and mighty, death- defying and magical. Thank you, little friends.
One thought on “Goin Home”
Have loved reading every single word describing your amazing summer together.
Julie, ya know I love you dearly, and every time we have a few words together I come away impressed with your knowledge of whatever(!), and yet I had NO IDEA you were (are) such an exquisite wordsmith! Extraordinarily talented.
Wonderful getting to know the Reichel family even better through this lovely Blog! Thanks for letting me vicariously join you on your BIG adventure. See you soon! XOXO
Have loved reading every single word describing your amazing summer together.
Julie, ya know I love you dearly, and every time we have a few words together I come away impressed with your knowledge of whatever(!), and yet I had NO IDEA you were (are) such an exquisite wordsmith! Extraordinarily talented.
Wonderful getting to know the Reichel family even better through this lovely Blog! Thanks for letting me vicariously join you on your BIG adventure. See you soon! XOXO