Moments

"If one ever wanted proof of Darwin's contention that the many expressions of emotion in humans are universal, genetically inscribed, then a few minutes by the arrival gate in Heathrow's Terminal Four should suffice. I saw the same joy, the same uncontrollable smile, in the faces of a Nigerian earth mama, a thin-lipped Scottish granny and a pale, correct Japanese businessman as they wheeled their trolleys in and recognised a figure in the expectant crowd. Observing human variety can give pleasure, but so too can human sameness. I kept hearing the same sighing sound on a downward note, often breathed through a name as two people pressed forward to go into their embrace.[...] The variety was in the private dramas: a father and teenage son, Turkish perhaps, stood in a long silent clinch, forgiving each other, or mourning a loss, oblivious to the baggage trolleys jamming around them; identical twins, women in their fifties, greeted each other with distaste, just touching hands and kissing without making contact; a small American boy, hoisted on to the shoulders of a father he did not recognise, screamed to be put down, provoking a fit of temper in his tired mother.

But mostly it was smiles and hugs, and in thirty-five minutes I experienced more than fifty theatrical happy endings, each one with the appearance of being slightly less well acted than the one before, until I began to feel emotionally exhausted and suspected that even the children were being insincere. I was just wondering how convincing I myself could be now in greeting Clarissa when she tapped me on the shoulder, having missed me in the crowd and circled round. Immediately my detachment vanished, and I called out her name, in tune with all the rest..."

- Extract from Enduring Love by Ian McEwan

I was reminded of that passage when I went to fetch an aunt and uncle at the airport the other day. I'd arrived too early and upon checking the information for arrival times, I realised that they'd given me the wrong time and that I'd have to wait an extra hour before their plane was due to land. I went to the nearest Starbucks inside the airport, ordered a coffee and almond croissant, and sat at a table in a corner from where I could just gaze vacantly at my surroundings. I started observing scenes as described by the author above, but for a second or two, I found myself unable to remember where I'd heard the description before. And then I remembered I'd read it a week ago or so when I'd started reading that book.

Then my aunt and uncle finally emerged from the arrival gate and I stepped out of the crowd to greet them at once as they pushed their trolley forward looking a bit lost and confused. Before that, I'd observed various scenes playing out; two children, a young boy and his older sister, emerging out of the arrival gates, stopping on their tracks for a moment to scan the hall blankly... and then their eyes lit up upon recognising their father waving from the far end of the hall. The children ran towards him, beaming, and clung to him as though they hadn't seen their father in years. A moment later, their mother was with them, reunited at last with the father as they gave in to a tight embrace before walking away slowly towards the exit, arm in arm with their children.

Next to me was a mother with her young son, who kept asking about the various destinations listed on the arrival board. "Look mum, there are people who come all the way from Los Angeles - does LA mean Los Angeles, mum?" he asked as they waited for family members to arrive through the gates. "Yes, it means the same," she replied quietly. "There are also people coming all the way from Australia - look," she added, pointing a finger up towards the board. And then as the people they were waiting for arrived, they beamed and greeted one another hurriedly before making their way out together, chatting loudly and laughing.

And there it is... the sameness in all our differences. Airports make for interesting places to observe. People... Moments... Life is nothing more, and nothing less than what we make of it, it seems.