There was the moment I stood up in the Boston airport to board my flight, realizing I was actually going home. I thought about my mom and brother eating dinner or watching TV at that moment, with no clue I was on my way to them. I thought about all the people around me, and how I was probably one of many in the airport making that last leg of a journey to people they loved. This overwhelming adrenaline rush hit me like a wave, and I had to swallow the tears that welled up in my eyes so the airport guy I handed my boarding pass to didn't think I was scared of air travel.
There was the moment I finally made it off the plane, down the long hallway to exit 7, across the street and into my dad's waiting arms, suitcase skidding into us both, and clung to him for a lot longer than I expected, trying not to cry as I climbed into the passenger seat so we could excitedly discuss surprise logistics on the drive home.
There was the moment my mom sat bolt upright in bed and gasped when she saw me standing in her room, before I tackled her and we hugged about seven times because each time we realized it wasn't enough. Eventually we realized we were a level of excited that only a 1:00 a.m. bowl of cereal would satisfy.
There was the moment this morning when I scooped up my cat and brought him back to my bed, and he immediately curled up under my arm and started purring, as if to say, it's about time.
There was the moment I entered the school via the chorus room back door and four or five of my friends lost their minds with shock, hugging me until their indignant teacher straight up told me to leave, so I scurried down the hallway, grinning from ear to ear because all the cool college kids in the world just don't have that effect.
There was the wordlessly perfect moment of surprising Timmy at school.
The office lady and I waited for 20 agonizing minutes with my phone camera poised, my entire insides buzzing. Finally he came casually striding down the hallway with his backpack, and nothing will ever take away the perfect moment when he saw me and came running forward, his cool mask falling away as we bear hugged around the hallway for a full minute.
I was expecting him to vocalize some exclamation of surprise, but all that came out were joyfully dumbfounded chuckles... because he was literally too happy to speak.
Once he'd signed himself out and I'd gotten my phone back from the office aide, we started walking towards the side doors, but we couldn't stop hugging each other, and finally we had to stop in the middle of the hallway for a good long one. When we came apart, we were both wiping away tears, and suddenly he said what we were both feeling: "I didn't realize how much I missed you until I saw you."
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And then there was the moment at dinnertime. We all filled our plates with the last of the Coco's curry rice and sat down. We held out our hands to each other to pray- and just like that, the circle was whole again, all four of us. And suddenly my mom and I looked up at each other across the table, and our eyes filled with tears because we were both thinking the same thing.
This made me cry.
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