My children love the airport. The airport brings us joy and sadness as we are often there picking up or dropping off relatives and friends. This time we picked up my Mum. We like to park close to the perimeter and stand at the fence to watch the plane land. The boys get excited by the noise, the lights and when it turns in to ‘look’ at them when it taxis in to stop. They marvel at the air marshals with the orange paddles signalling the plane and when they wheel the stairs up to the door. They cling to the fence; their chubby fingers curled through the wire, their eyes wide with wonder and their little bodies in stark contrast to the red dirt that defines our remote landscape. We like to read any signage and talk about colours and logos. There is much to see and learn at the airport.
They like to talk about everyone getting off and wait impatiently to see Nanny come down the stairs and then we have to run inside to be ready to meet her at the glass doors.
Once in the terminal we stand close to the entry doors to see people as they walk in. When they see Nanny they are suddenly shy and standoffish after weeks of anticipation. It takes them a few minutes to remember her from her last visit and then they clamber up her leg and cuddle and kiss her. Their love is palpable, honest and whole-hearted and the feeling is always mutual.
We wait and listen for the siren that means the baggage carousel is about to start. We help find the right bags and head back to the car with the boys talking loudly, counting, spelling and explaining . . . Reunited again, we are ready for a week of fun, playing, baking, reading and riding with our precious Nanny.