"So take me to the airport, put me on the plane--
I got no expectations to pass through here again."
(Written by Mick Jagger & Keith Richard, Sung by Joan Baez)

     The airport bus stopped before she had a chance to pull her luggage down.  The suitcase seemed heavier this time; it was the same one she had used in Europe at the beginning of the year.  It was her favorite, easy to carry from one hotel to another.  Standing in the aisle, she was glad the bus ride was over.  It had taken longer than usual.  People wanted to get their last minute shopping done, and, with the fog, the freeway had become jammed with cars.
     She stepped off the bus and walked toward the airport terminal.  A strange feeling of nostalgia ran through her and brought back memories of the different airports she had been to:  Paris, Rome, Frankfurt, Madrid.  She thought to herself as the door slid open about how different airports were with the signs, the languages, and the uniforms the employees wore.  Yet they all had those waxed, shiny floors.  It made her aware of her footsteps and the sound of luggage being dragged from one line to another.  She walked faster and saw the reflection of her small body in front of her.  It was as if she were walking in the hospital from her office to the north wing late at night or early in the morning.  The announcement over the loud speaker drowned out all her thoughts.
     The line for United Air was long.  With extra time on her hands, she didn't mind taking her place at the end.  There was only one suitcase to worry about anyway.  She had mailed the Christmas presents far enough ahead of time as usual.
     "They look like a newly married couple," she thought, her eyes resting on a whispering pair in front of her.  "They must be on their way to spend their Christmas with the in-laws."  She thought of her own parents.  Her father had retired this past summer after being with the same insurance company for thirty years.  Last year, she noticed how quickly he had aged.  His job had been stressful with his many accounts and clients to look after.  He had remained slim, nevertheless, and still enjoyed playing golf.  She smiled, imagining his pleasure at receiving the present she had bought him this year, Bob Hope's book "The Hooker."  She had managed to get it autographed at The Bon when Hope was there promoting the heart institution.
         She wondered how her dad had survived her mother's constant nagging over his table manners all these years.  She had tried many times, over the phone to have a more personal conversation with him, but her mother always succeeded in taking over, and he had not protested the intrusion.  Among the family, he had seemed satisfied to be pushed aside, closing himself off within his own world.  It was hard to believe that, at one time, he had been a captain in the air force.  His face danced in front of her and made her think about the resemblance in their features; the bony cheeks, the long noses, and thick eyebrows.  She was glad he had not given her his height, liking the idea of being short and petite.   »» read the rest of the story