Airport

It's 3 o'clock in the afternoon and I'm tired. I'm tired because I got up at 4am this morning to meet a plane arrving at Melbourne airport, a plane that carried my parents abord. They had been overseas for 6 weeks, in Europe and the UK and it felt important for me to be there to meet them when they arrived home again. Partly I think I felt this way because of the countless trips to the airport they have done for me - this morning was payback in the best sense of that term. Partly, and more importantly, I wanted to be there because this trip was so important to my Dad. He's 63 years old and this was his first trip overseas. He doesn't like flying and I dont mind telling you that I had my doubts about whether he would get on the plane. But he did, and wouldn't you know it, it turns out he sleeps well on aeroplanes! I can never sleep a wink!
So apart from a couple of phone calls, text messages and postcards, I didn't really have a sense of how the trip went. He has been back only 10 hours and already his enthusiasm for the experiences he had and the larger world in which he now feels a part are both clear. At some point, perhaps when he is less jet lagged, I will hear more stories and see some of the 12 or 13 CD's full of photos he has taken! But for now I'm just proud of him, willing to leave his comfort zone and take on a new thing and open to the revelations that brings. I hope I am so willing at 63!