Waiting...waiting...and more waiting...



The day my son came home from Korea was one of the longest days of my life. First, the plane wasn’t due until the afternoon so I had all morning to worry and dwell on every possible thing that could go wrong.

(When I was nine, my sister came from Korea. I remember sitting at the airport and worrying so much I made myself sick. I did keep my mother distracted during the wait since she had to spend the time in the bathroom with me. I was sure that there would be a mix up and my sister would not be on the plane.)

All of the bad possibilities ran through my head at one point during the morning. Then, the plane finally landed and we had to wait until the children (my son and two girls) made it through customs. It took an extra long time because for some reason the babies were marked as possible security threats.

I was really glad that we weren’t alone. Initially, I had thought I wanted it to be a private time. After all, was the whole family invited into the delivery room? Shortly before my son arrived, I relented and allowed my husband’s parents, my parents and my sister to come to the airport with us. I made a good choice.

The hours of waiting were more manageable. We talked. We laughed when everyone turned to see who was coming out when the doors swung open. We kept each other distracted and, when the final moment came, we moved like a well-oiled machine. As my husband and I reached for our son, my father-in-law snapped pictures with our camera, my father turned on the video camera, my mother guarded the diaper bag and my mother-in-law took more pictures with her own camera. Nothing was missed and we have a record of every step.

Though I’m sure it’s different for everyone, for us it was supposed to be a shared moment. When he is older, we can say, “Do you remember that day at the airport?” The grandparents can nod and turn to our son and say, “We came to the airport to meet you for the first time. We remember…” In the tradition of oral history, they can give him memories of that special day that he can pass on to his children and grandchildren.

“I came home on a 747…”