Waving Goodbye

As the line shuffled, shoeless toward the airport metal detector, my parents and ten-year-old cousin waved to me in unison from the non-passenger waiting area. I waved back and smiled. Slowly the line moved, and as I neared the detector I turned again toward the waiting area. My parent’s began to wave, and I waved back.

After a short wait I passed through the metal detecting arch uneventfully, and as I waited for my carry-on bag, and other possibly threatening objects to coast down the slide from the x-ray machine, I looked back toward my family, who were watching me intently. As my eyes met theirs they waved and smiled. I waved too, and smiled.

When I had tied my laces and strapped my carry-on firmly around my shoulders, I walked toward the escalator that would carry me up to the terminals. As I ascended I glanced over my shoulder, and smiled at my family whose hands were still moving side to side, as though polishing imaginary glass.