Life in Line

Hope in who we truly are

It’s 6am, March 21st, I’m giddy with excitement. Living my ‘mom life’ dreams (i’ve been told by daughters that #momlife is lame for me to use or say, but it turns out I don’t care, you get me, no?). Anyway, Lucy (my youngest - freshman in college) and her friends invited a bunch of us moms to go on spring break with them. We moms are not under the illusion that this invitation was unrelated to the subsequent paying for the trip, but we don’t care, at least I don’t care - I’M GOING ON SPRING BREAK!

I’m fully caffeinated and at the airport nice and early to have breakfast before my flight. Because in this middle part of life, I’ve been told by every Instagram post and all the other everyones that protein and fiber are the key to life, so I will eat eggs. I am killing it this am.

At least I was until I saw the line. THE LINE!

To be fair, I knew there would be a long line for TSA, I don’t live under a rock. The news was clear. But I DID NOT think it would be THIS long. I follow said line, stopping every so often, thinking I’ve gotten to the end, but no, it snakes itself around and around the terminal. We are practically in the parking lot by the time I do come to the end. DESPAIR!

There is no way, even with all of the extra time, that I’m making my flight. The faces of everyone there say they aren’t either. We are collectively at the mercy of the line.

I will be fully transparent here and say that the hamster wheel in my brain was spinning fast. Fueled by annoyance at the whole system, for everyone involved, most of all the agents themselves. Mad and frustrated. We are falling apart…..

And then life in the line moved along. I’d say one step at a time, but it was more like one carry-on bag shuffle along our way.

The guy in front of me shrugged his shoulders and asked where I was trying to go. The people behind me laughed at my snarky response and we made knowing eye contact. The 20-something behind them leaned in and told us they were on their way for an audition for a movie. We immediately claimed ownership of their future fame. We considered a money-making racket where we could take Starbucks orders and upcharge for delivery straight to a person’s place in line. I’d be the runner. They’d hold my spot. I learned about people’s children and parents. City mice and country mice. Those heading on adventures, those going home, and everything in between.

We stood in that line for 2+ hours. And here’s the thing: in this long, long, very, very long line of people, there was not a single issue. Not an unkind word spoken. Instead, babies were smiled at. Kids were entertained by cautious by line-mates. Jokes were made, and laughs received. Aid was given for the heavier bag dragging. All the things happened.

It was a giant collective understanding that we were all heading somewhere, and sometimes getting where we are going is not as straightforward as we hoped.

I started my time in line ruminating on the tears in the fabric of our lives together, sad for the state of things, and ended it cheering on my new young friend to run like crazy to get to their audition.

There is hope in who we are.

Hope in who we can still be collectively.

Underneath the things that pull us apart is an abundance that simmers waiting to show us all that we are better together. We always have been. We always will be.

Aren’t we all just living life in line together?