The boys (my 3 little nephews) were tearing it up at the entrance for terminals 1-14, Running around and around. They reminded me of some crazy planets orbiting an unseen sun, the way they would run right at each other then turn away from each other at the last second, giggling like crazy before turning again and repeating the cycle. We all watched them as we waited, the grandparents helping to intervene when nessessary.
And then the people could be seen coming down the long hall. The boys were gathered up into loving arms and we all huddled together to peer down the narrow walkway. Alot of people with their bags and cases of luggage came bustling by, but no sign of my brother. Then finally the pilot and the stewardesses brought up the rear. But where was Bryan? In the now empty hallway a lone figure could be seen walking slowly towards us. It was a man, and he did have a suit and tie on, and he did have dark brown hair. could that be him? Or did he give his seat up to another missionary who was on standby too? we asked ourselves. After all, there had been four of them stranded in texas. He was now almost close enough for us to see his face when the man stopped. Looking down, he then knelt to tie his shoe. We laughed, Aw come on! travis cried.
It WAS Bryan. Such a stunt was just like him. All smiles, we waited in our places so we could embrace the homebound son, brother, uncle, missionary of God. It was a joyful reunion.
1 comment:
Hooray! I didn't cry when my big bro left on his mission, but I did when I recognized him coming down the hallway of the airport. It was almost how you described. Ah, the memories!
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