Sat 18 Mar 2006
Last night, I flew home on the perennially cursed Newark to Boston route on Continental. There is always way too much drama for a forty-minute flight; it is always late and oversolf, and I’ve been bumped from it twice, even with a confirmed ticket. Yesterday was no exception. It was over an hour late. The new sign over the jetway did nothing to allay my concerns: “Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch’intrate.” Classy, though.
When I got to Logan, a feeling of happiness and expectation suddenly came over me. For a few minutes I couldn’t parse it, then I realized I was remembering Aitch’s homecoming day. With a shock I realized that in a few short months, I would be back to pick up his little brother.
It’s odd that Terminal C in Logan would be the place where my life with my children would start. I wonder if other mothers feel the same way when they drive past the hospital?
March 19th, 2006 at 11:57 am
Yes, but was your car there?????
I know it’s not really any of my business, but have you ever discussed why you’ve chosen not to go to Korea to pick up your children?
March 21st, 2006 at 10:32 am
I think of it every time we go by Logan, which is practically every day. Stupid thoughts too, like which terminal will it be? (I hope it’s E, because you can exit through the big doors making a grand entrance with BabyT). I’d love to hear about your airport arrival day sometime, it’d be a great post.