Mother’s Day In an Airport

Last year on Mother’s Day I was varying thousands of miles away. It was hell day on my South America trip, and we spent the day going from airport to airport for about 20 hours straight. I didn’t even see the Mother’s Day gift my kids sent me until the next day.

We started out in Puno at Lake Titicaca and got up about 6am to take the bus to the dusty industrial town of Jalisco where the airport is. Our trip leader, Sergio, thought that plane was going all the way to Lima, and it was, but with a stop in Cusco to drop off and pick up.

We seemed to be almost on the ground when the plane suddenly accelerated, climbed and circled. I waited for an explanation from the pilots but they never said a word. Later one of the others told me he had looked out the window and seen another plane coming in at a right angle to ours about 50 yards away! We had almost been T-boned while landing, something I’m really glad no one shared with me at the time.

When the plane did land I looked for the rest of my group spread out over the plane but could only spot two people. I decided I wasn’t getting off unless I saw Sergio going, but one of the girls up front wasn’t so quick to catch on. She got off and found herself alone in the wrong airport with a flight attendant blocking her re-entry. By the time she was brought back she was in tears but safe.

I had a seat next to a woman who had on so much perfume that I abandoned being polite and held my scarf over my nose most of the flight. I hoped she would get off at Cusco but of course I wasn’t that lucky. However a family with a toddler did get on and sit behind me, banging on the tray attached to my seat and whooping to entertain the baby. At least they were having fun shaking my seat.

At each airport we seemed to be on a grand tour; we would get off in one place, gather all our luggage and haul it across the entire compound, sometimes even going outside. This marched us past dozens of families at the gates eagerly waiting to greet their mothers with flowers and gifts and happy squealing children. I missed my own children terribly and tried not to look.

After our unexpected stop in Cusco we made it through Lima and into Brazil on the first huge comfy airliner I’ve seen. It was 8 seats across with 2 aisles and a personal entertainment screen in the back of each seat. You could watch a movie, a tv show, or my favorite: a map that showed where the plane was and gave the speed, altitude and outside air temperature. It was -68 degrees at 33,000 feet.

Throughout the day my roommate  Lindsay got to travel lighter because Sergio insisted on carried her bag for her, saying “It’s Mother’s Day and you are a Mother.” At first it seemed nice, but there were four mother’s on that trip and he never offered to carry anything for the rest of us.

As I puffed along that afternoon I told Lindsay “Not fair. You have one kid and I have three! When is it my turn?”

“I know, but he won’t give it back. I tried!” she hissed.

In Cusco a man offering paintings on the street had been trying to sell to my friend Josh, and when I stepped up he asked “Is this your mother?” It became an inside joke, and Josh had taken to calling me Mom since then. As we passed through airport after airport he threw one of my bags on top of his to lighten my load. I wasn’t sure if I felt better or embarrassed, but I appreciated the help. If I couldn’t have my own kids on Mother’s Day, at least I had Josh as a surrogate.

After a long layover in Sao Paulo it was well after midnight when  we arrived at our last stop, Ignazu Falls, Brazil. At the hotel room keys were handed out, and Lindsay and I were left without one. Sergio said, “Oh, some rooms have triple occupancy here, you must be in one of those.” That’s how we found out at 2:00 AM that we were being split up and tossed in with new roommates. If I wasn’t so tired I would have fought about it more, but we were only going to be there two nights so I met my new living companions and fell into bed.

The next day when I was able to get on my computer to update my family I saw this on my Facebook page:

I cried a little. I had been wishing I’d told Jason to have the girls post something for me, a picture or a greeting of some kind, but I thought of it too late. Somehow he had known; this is why we’re married. It made up for all the trudging through airports looking at other mother’s being swarmed by their children. I knew that even though I wasn’t there it was still my day.

Then there was this picture from June:

This was my first solo trip, first time hauling my own ridiculously over-packed luggage, first time being away from my children for so long. I was exhausted, and stressed, and I had lost the one person who understood, my roommate Lindsay. Right when I need encouragement, there was this, and it did help me hold it together.

Mother’s Day gifts don’t have to be expensive or perfect. Sometimes a picture really is worth a thousand words, and it can travel across thousands of miles and connect us with those we love.

As for today, we had lunch with Grandma and went swimming at the YMCA. Jason is out right now getting my favorite Italian food for dinner because everyone knows the best way to make me happy is to feed me. I thought a lot about how far away I was last year, and I am so glad just to be here with them today. Happy Mother’s Day!