Last week, I went to the airport with a friend to pick up her teenage daughter. It was the first time the daughter had been away from home and my friend was very anxious to see her again.
Her daughter is seventeen years old, and currently dislikes overt displays of emotions. In any case, that was the excuse my friend gave me, when refusing my proposal to press our noses and lips up against the glass wall separating us from her daughter in the luggage pick up area.
There was a man waiting with us in the arrivals area with two nervous, yappy, small dogs. You should have seen the scene the dogs created when the owner’s wife came out. They were barking, yapping, squeaking, and wagging their behinds so hard their rear ends touched their ears. The man barely managed to give his wife a peck-on-the-cheek; for the dogs were jumping everywhere.
It was hysterical. Many of the people in the hall looked on disapprovingly. My friend included. Tsk. Tsk. Too much noise. Too much hysterics.
I thought it was fantastic. What a display of joy and excitement. Wouldn’t you just give anything to be able to do that? To bark, and yap, jump up and down, waggle you behind in pure abandon at the sight of your loved one walking through that door?
That's why it is so joyful to meet your small at the and of the school day again. His face lights up and he cries out, "Mama!" with joy and races towards you to hug you. Something to be savored.
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