Writer-At-Large – The Atlanta Airport

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When you’re a writer-at-large, you let life happen to you. That way, you let your eyes steal everything that they see, put a spin on it and spill onto paper / machine some “stream of consciousness” kinda cool stuff.

After COVID, life somehow feels throbbing all around me. And if I am a true writer-at-large, it’s only fair that I must observe, muse and write about it.

Well this happened at the ATL Airport last week. I held a 3 month old crying baby so her mother could pee in peace for 90 seconds, heard a 65 year old man tell me his brave story of going on a trip to Egypt two days after his heart surgery, and helped a mom of 4 and her oldest 9 year old daughter find a bag that they had misplaced at our gate.

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What will stay with me for a while is that little girl – the mom of 4’s biggest helper. While we waited to board, I saw her pushing a huge stroller while carrying her oversized backpack. She kept turning back to meet her mom’s eyes for cues of any distress. She kept reaching out to the hand of her sister next to her to make sure she maintained her lane. She would keep bending down to kiss her brother and sister in the stroller. It almost seemed for the one hour that her mission was to keep her youngest sister calm and happy while her mom managed the luggage, check messages and paperwork, and gave out snacks.

Time to board. In the line, right in front of me is a young girl with bright blonde hair, possibly in her early 20’s, talking to “My Baby Boy 🥰❤️” on her phone. Well, to each her own.

To kill time, and that’s what you must do instead of spend it carefully, on the flight, I picked “Father’s Day” a movie that stars Robin Williams. This same funny man who, decades later, in the last minutes of his life was adjusting a belt over his neck to figure out the angle at which he should drop his weight. The movie is slapstick as heck, but my goal was to try to read for any signs of sadness in his eyes.

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For a few moments on the 10 hour flight to Istanbul, I paused to stare at my hands. I thought of the word Nirvana on the lady’s T shirt that I asked to take a picture of. I love it so much. It’s really what our lives are all about. I took a look at how my skin is thinning and my veins are more pronounced. A little more of this in their more exaggerated stage will start to look like my grandma’s. Her face and her hands tell me a story.

So maybe, growing old ain’t that bad? I wonder, when she was young, was my grandma also naïve enough to adopt the definitions of success and happiness from others?

Well, when you’re feverishly journaling and clicking pictures to remember how life is unfolding around you, you also take attitude from your kids. 😂 I took it in my stride because I know better. I know better that all this age advantage I have over them is just something they will also eventually grow into. Let them have it their way until they know things can be done better.

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For now, life is good. The spoken word is what I crave, so I make sure to answer every call I get. As I age, my circle of acquaintances is shrinking. I need to work always to counter entropy. And for that I need to conserve my energy.

Isn’t time the only treasure we own? Of course, on flights, I reserve the rights to kill it. I am still ambitious but only to stare at the moon whole heartedly in the sky at nights. Who knows how many moons I have left. It must be a privilege of the few to grow old, isn’t it? Robin Williams was almost there.

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Robin Williams, In His Own Words About Suicide:

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When Life Happens, You Write

When you’re a writer-at-large, you let life happen to you. That way, you let your eyes steal everything that you see, put a spin on it and spill onto paper / machine some “stream of consciousness” kinda cool stuff. And if I am a true writer-at-large, it’s only fair that I must observe, muse and write about it.

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