How to say goodbye at the airport

In my family, there are two ways of saying goodbye at the airport. There's the Ruthford way, the way of my father's family. They give you a hug and tell you how great it was to see you, and they leave you at the curb. And there's the Fussell way, the way of my mother's family, when they check in to short-term parking and stay with you through check-in, baggage check, and then they go and wait with you at the gate until your flight actually leaves and through all of the flight delays, too (thank God Homeland Security no longer allows non-passengers past security). I much prefer the Ruthford way of airport departures because as you're doing it, your mind is on where you are going, not where you've been. My aunt Alice, who grew up a Fussell, refers to the Fussell goodbye as the albatross-around-the-neck goodbye.

I think Spokane is giving us a Fussell-style goodbye. Miri and I have been here for a year, and it's been a wonderful experience, but it really is time to move on. The zoo has been making Miri work 14-15 hours a day, unpaid, and I think it's been two weeks since she's had a day when she didn't visit the zoo at all.

I feel like I'm sitting in a chair at the airport, waiting for my boarding call to somewhere else, and my dear friend Spokane is sitting next to me, and it has one more story to tell. Miri and I left church early today just to avoid the possibility of people asking us what we do just because the answer wouldn't be civil. We're getting a little anti-social just because we know that we're not going to be around much longer so being chatty and making friends doesn't have much point.

So, Spokane, I love you, but let me read my book quietly while I wait for my flight! And no, I don't want to talk about what's coming next for me because right now the answer is, "Sitting still in a space the size of a refrigerator and eating pretzels." It's a touchy subject. Okay, rant over.