Airport Pleasantries

The Welcome:

You anticipate the alarm. Every hour jumping out of your skin, checking the clock. Again and again. Because you can’t be late.

This is THE day, circled on the calendar. Finally, THE day. The countdown is over.

You’ve waited 5 months for this. That’s 159 days. 3,600 hours since you’ve seen His face.

It’s 5am, but your make-up HAS to be perfect. You can’t possibly have a stray hair. Did you shave your legs?Is your hair perfectly straight? Will he notice this contour? Hurry up, dammit or you’ll be late!

The commute to the airport is a cocktail of emotion. Listening to happy songs. Feels songs. Gangsta rap songs.

I can hear my Heartbeat in my head. Traffic. Shit!

You speed. Gosh, I Hope there’s no cops. Can’t afford a fine.

The Airport car park nightmare..
Round and round and round.

Level after level!

Just give me a spot!

Got one!

Shit, can’t lose the ticket!

It’s time.

You sprint to the Arrivals gate. Literally sprint in thongs (like a true Aussie).
The plane is late.

He hasn’t contacted you.

So you wait.

The front of the line so you don’t miss him.

Watching every single person walking out of customs until you lock eyes with his.

You observe.

You heart racing.

Leg starting to shake with adrenaline.

You don’t want to miss this moment.

Ten minuets. Then fifteen. Twenty.

Damn, where is he?

Is something wrong?
You notice something magical about airport arrivals.

Everyone is waiting for their someone.

A loved one. A family member. A client. A business partner. A customer.

A long lost love.
Wave after wave of people.

People all looking to lock eyes with their own someone.

The person they’re anticipating.
Man. I need to wee!

Am I going to be sick?

Where the hell is he!

Why won’t my leg stop shaking.

You giggle.

It feels like I’ve been on the ‘Big Drop’ at Dreamworlds ten times over.
Then another wave of people.

Your heart drops.

It’s HIM!

Eeeeee!
He’s seen you! And you give each other THAT look.

My heart is so happy.

I’m shaking all over.
You rush over to see him. To feel him. To

Embrace him. To smell him!

But not quite yet…
People won’t move.

Move out of the f*%!ng way!

How can you Walk so slow!

I have road rage while walking.
I’m the middle of the walkway he drops his bags.

I wrap my Legs around his waist and burry my face in his chest.

He’s here! He’s really, Actually here! He’s home!

A rush of warmth encompasses your body and fills your chest. I’m sweating.

We kiss.

Kiss deeply.

In a room full of people, we are the only two that matter.

Time passes. Still kissing. Just holding one another.

We realise we are causing a scene.

And all is well in the world again.

You feel whole. You feel safe. Your heart is glad. And nothing else seems hard anymore. Nothing else matters.

We move out of the way. Our to the car. And can’t keep our hands off one another. We begin our lives together, once again!
Until the airport farewell.

The farewell:
The Farewell is something dark.

Like out of a cruel, bad ending to a chick flick where someone dies.

Something I dread every single time.

Because when ‘Home’ goes from a place, to a person.

When they’re not here, you don’t feel right.

Nothing makes sense.

You feel lost. Your puzzle piece is floating somewhere, in another land far away.
I’ve realised The Goodbye doesn’t seem as daunting each time over.

But it has a harsh way of hitting you all at once.

The car ride is normal, we sing. We reminisce. Until Google Maps tells you you’re 5 mins away and then that lump on your throat gets bigger and bigger. And you can’t hold the tears any longer.

Pulling into the departures gate.

‘Drop off only.’
Let’s make it quick so it doesn’t hurt so much. Like a band-aid.

But no.

Each time a little piece of me breaks.

Each time he flies away, or I fly away. My soul aches.
we embrace. And then when I think it’s our last hug. We embrace again. And again. don’t want to let him go.

His eyes don’t want to let me go.

I feel the lump in my throat.

And then my eyes are wet. My face is wet.

I burry my face in his chest.

His eyes reciprocate mine.

And we both sob. Just sob.

Sob for the fact we won’t wake up next to one another tomorrow.

Or for a few more tomorrows.
For the little insignificant life-moments – that you remember most.

That make it all Worth it.

The highs that amount to a greater joy, than any of the lows.

The moments that confirm, they are everything your world needs, wants and can’t live without.

The feeling you crave most of simple being in each other’s arms, presence. The same postcode!
But the goodbye, never gets easier.

It’s the ‘I’ll see you soon,” we hold close.

The last sob. The last kiss. The last look in their eyes. Through the pain, through the tears.

The look I remember most vividly in my Dreams, That let’s you know one day – it’ll all be okay.

One day it will all make sense.

It freaking sucks.

And hurts. Hurts real bad. Like no physical pain you have ever been exposed to. No wound comparable.

Long distance, is just mileage.
It doesn’t matter when the person you are farewelling, will be your favourite hello for the rest of your days.

I’ll hold onto The Promise in his eyes.

Until next time…

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Your Real Meaning of Christmas

This holiday season, it’s very easy to get caught up in the commercialised side of Christmas, materialism and spending. It’s easy to lose sight of what’s important. I’ve seen so many people get so stressed about who they need big gifts for and how much they’re spending. Rather than simply, why we are buying gifts in the first place.

You can very easily Lose sight of what Christmas really means to you. It might be along the lines of. Family time. Reunions. Giving. Or The CHRIST in Christmas.


I would encourage you, this Christmas time to take a moment to simply think about what Christmas might mean to someone like this little girl. I had the joy of meeting in Cambodia. She may look happy, dressed and in good health. But she is Living in an improvised community. Her parents might not earn more than $AU 70c per day. Which is enough to get by, to put rice on the table. By Christmas would certainly look very different from ours.

I have no doubts, her smile would remain the brightest little grin; I’ve ever seen. Her attitude would still be carefree. She would not know the feeling of seeing wrapping paper and presents under a tree. Or a santa sack on the end of her bed.

Christmas might simply be another day to her. With added silly songs about a fat man in a suit.

These people are strong. Even though they live in destitution; they are happy with their simple way of living. They have enough to live and learn. And they don’t complain or think ‘why me.’ They do their best to provide a future for their families.  And realised they are blessed with what little they have.

I encourage you, and your family to never take your situation for granted. Some people are praying for what you have. And what you have, could very well be enough.

Take care, be grateful and be safe his Christmas and hold your loved ones close.