Airports

If you look up the definition of an airport in the dictionary, it focuses on the planes: a place from which aircraft operate that usually has paved runways and maintenance facilities and often serves as a terminal.Quite an empty definition.

Airports have shaped me ever since I can remember. I was about 6 when we left Bucharest, cue long line of relatives all bawling their eyes out. Surely Canada cannot be that far, I thought. When we landed at the airport in Toronto, we met relatives I had never met, and stayed with them. The strangest feeling ever for a little girl who was in a place unlike anything she had seen before. I remember having a certain fascination with the highways. If you’ve been to Romania recently, you will know why, there is still quite a bit of struggle to build them even today.

Throughout middle school and high school, the airport became about summer vacations. I was packed up and sent to Europe, usually for months, bouncing from beach to beach, country to country.

In university, it became about homesickness, crying about being away from my parents. Approximately only one hour on the plane, but nevertheless, it seemed like countries and continents away. In the final years of university, it became about leaving the university and someone I loved behind in order to go visit the family. Then, as I moved to London it became about a long distance relationship. Tears, hugs, kisses, sadness, happiness. The airport could be a happy place, in a moment of reunion. It could also be a sad place, having to say goodbye once again. As time went by, it became harder and harder to say goodbye and each reunion was filled with more happiness and joy.

Today, I spend most of my time watching other people get reunited, or saying goodbye. The airport, in a way, feels like home. It is the means by which I see everyone I love around the world. And oddly enough, heart breaks and turmoil have drawn me back to the very dictionary definition: a means.