Life is short, relatively speaking. Seventy, maybe 80, years and its off to the worm buffet. And there is nothing like the end of summer to turn one’s thoughts toward one’s own mortality.
Personally, I am realizing that I am coming to the end of my invincible years (those teenage years where nothing can stop you, much less kill you), and with that realization comes thoughts of time and meaning.
I suppose the real turning point came for me in an airport terminal at the end of a terrible week, in the form of a “beautiful stranger” late on a Sunday night. But before we can understand this we must first look at how I got there.
My neighbors had taken a week-long Mexican cruise, leaving hearth and home in the charge of my Dad and sister. My Dad drove them to airport so they wouldn’t have to deal with long term parking, and my sister was left to take care of the pets (five cats, two dogs).
I was perfectly happy to have nothing to do with this particular job. You see, I was living the life, finishing up work, enjoying my last gasp of summer vacation before heading back to the grind. All was perfect until my sister fell ill from caring for the animals.
In years past (even though she is allergic to animal hair) she has been able to care for my neighbor’s pets, so this came as a terrible shock to everyone, especially me, since I was told that I was now expected to take her place.
I was (admittedly) a little upset, for I am neither an early riser, nor a great lover of other people’s pets. Yet twice a day, I fed and watered the animals, emptied the engorged litter box, and otherwise maintained the miniature banes of my existence.
I was grumpy to say the least.
The next day was worse. My dad (who had so graciously taken my neighbors to the airport) contracted a severe kidney infection and was hospitalized. This left me to pick up my relaxed sun washed neighbors at the airport at 11 p.m. on Sunday night, and that is where I met her.
I arrived early, around 10:30 and tried to settle in for what should have been a short wait. I was restless though. After my bad week I was more than a little angry, and felt (childishly) that I had been unfairly put upon.
I began to think about my week, and I began to laugh, at this point to tired to be angry.
I was sitting in my seat at Gate 7, chuckling, when she walked past me. She was maybe 5’5″, cute, blonde, late 20’s, dressed in a pink dress. She had a weary look that creased her sharply featured face.
We locked eyes, smiled in that harmless way, and my eyes slowly wandered (as is my habit) down the third finger on her left hand. Sure enough “The Rock” was there (it’s interesting how little gold bands so define our relationships to one another).
She passed on by, walking over to the massive windows overlooking the tarmac and the runway lights that disappeared into the ink-black horizon, like a warning to go no further.
I looked at my watch, time for the plane to arrive. Still no aluminum behemoth in sight.
Since I was unable to shake my restless feelings, or remove my eyes from the lady in pink, I decided to walk around the terminal. The stores were all closed and the airport restaurant was locking up, so I went in search of the vending machines.
Upon finding the coin-operated nirvana, I set about picking my poison. As I pondered I heard the clickity-clack of heels on cold tile. I turned to look in time to see the lady in pink walk by me again.
I was thinking of this as the loudspeaker crackled to life over my head. The androgynous drone announced that flight X from Cincinnati had been delayed. I cursed, grabbed my drink and went back to sit down at my gate.
Even as I sat down I heard the clickity-clack of the lady in pink behind me. She walked past me again, this time taking a seat at the end of the row opposite me.
Feeling a little full of myself, I tried to cook up an excuse to go and talk to her. After some brainstorming, I had a (laugh) brilliant idea and began to walk toward her, as if I was going to peer out of the windows overlooking the gate.
I smiled as I walked past, sighing dramatically. I looked at her and said, “You know I just wish they’d tell you the real reasons planes are delayed.”
She looked at me, made no reply, no movement. I, knowing (instinctively) how to take a hint, retreated to the windows to try and hide my embarrassment. Feeling incredibly dumb, I looked at my watch, 11:30, where was the plane?
The speaker crackled again, this time announcing something about a flight from Chicago. I sighed heavily, and was praying that I could just disappear into the cracks in the floor, when a voice behind me said, “Was that about our plane?”
I turned around to discover that the lady in pink was talking to me. I said, ” no, ours won’t be here `till around 12.”
That simple exchange started a conversation that would last until our plane landed at 12:15, over an hour late.
We talked about who we were waiting for.
I told the story of my terrible week, and we both had a good laugh. She told me that she was waiting on her fiance, who had been gone for nearly a month. He had been plane hopping since 6 that morning.
Sometime during the conversation it happened. As we were discussing her job she looked right at me and said, “So what do you do?” As innocuous as it sounds, it caught me off guard. I was a student, no one asked what I did.
Something happened then. I realized that the world was beginning to see me as an adult. I was so busy planning for what I was going to do to bring it about, that it had all happened without me.
I stammered and said that I was getting ready to start my graduate work and the conversation drifted back to weather, sports, and other nonsense.
The plane soon landed and the passengers disembarked. I said goodbye to the lady in pink and went to the gate to wait for my party.
My neighbors arrived, and I looked to see my new friend smile a conspiratorial, knowing smile, which I returned, and then we were swallowed up by the crowd and I never saw her again.
What’s the point of that story? Why tell you, dear reader, why here, why now?
Well, the truth is, we are running out of time. Life goes by so quickly, and we are rushing to get to the end. We waste so much time playing games that we never get to know people, we never look beyond the facade.
We never go up to a stranger and say, “I think that you are attractive, you interest me, I want to know the truth about you.”
We just don’t do that. Well why not?
We don’t because of two things: 1)we’re afraid of rejection, and 2) we are always waiting for something better to come along.
For these very reasons we hide and play games.
We miss the journey, those insignificant yet profound moments, those conversations in airports with complete strangers that teach you more about your place in the world than 21 years of desperate consideration. Those little things called “life.”
So if you are thinking about asking your girlfriend to marry you, do it. If you are thinking of asking that cute guy in your class out for dinner, do it.
Don’t wait, because life is going to go forward no matter what you do.
You will grow up. You will get old. You will die. And soon enough we’ll all have to face it.
So this is my advice to everyone.
Experience everything, learn to love the journey as much the goal.
For after all has been said and done, will your life be a steam train to finality, or will it be an epic collection of vignettes to keep you company long after dreams and goals are gone?
Live, just live. Because it’s only a matter of time.

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