Last night, about an hour and a half past our regular bedtime, we picked Andy up at the Charlottesville Airport – CHO. He was returning from a job interview at the University of Southern Mississippi, an opportunity to become an assistant professor – a tenured position. He looked tired but happy to be home as he walked through the gate in his tan silk sports coat, his tie loosened. We were happy to see him (although we all hope he will be hired and move out in the near future.)
Planes and schools seem to be a recurring theme in Andy’s life. When he was just a couple of months old, I flew with both he and Maggie to spend the Christmas holidays in Syracuse with my folks while Dave was deployed. They both flew for free if they sat on a lap so I flew my Mom down to fly back with us. The flight up was uneventful but coming back we were challenged by both bad weather delays and the slipperiness of the kids’ nylon snowsuits that seemed to slide down our bodies when we tried to plop them on a hip.
Our next flight together was when we flew as a family out to Hawaii – twenty years ago this summer. That flight was loooonnnnggggg. While stationed on Oahu, we took at least one family vacation to a neighboring island each year. They were short hops on prop planes that took us to tiny airports. The smallest of these was on Moloka’i, where a tractor towed our luggage from the plane on a cart and our bags were set on a wooden table for pick-up in an open aired pole barn. When our three years were over, we flew back to the mainland – a much longer flight than the first because we were leaving a place we loved deeply.
Andy’s next flight was to Duke for an interview for the University Scholars program. He left was some anxiety but I’ll never forget his triumphant return; smiling from ear to ear with a Blue Devils ballcap atop his head. “I’m going!” He declared – and he did.
The summer following his junior year at Duke, Andy grabbed at the opportunity to study in London. Instead of departing from the Norfolk Airport, we had to take him up to Dulles. Even though he was twenty, it was still difficult for me to drop him off at such an enourmous airport and just drive off in those early days of post 911. He was so excited, I was the anxious one.
Since then he has taken many flights. As part of his graduate progarm at UC San Diego, he has travelled all over the country, presenting papers and attending conferences. So much so that as I was fussing with him as he prepared for this trip to Mississippi, he finally reminded me that he has had much more experience in air travel than I have and I should “stop mothering” him. Point taken, I backed off, but as all mothers know, there is just no going back on the mothering bit, we can only throttle it back a bit.
So now he’s back. He thought the trip went well and seems to be contented to just wait. While he was away he also learned that UCSD has a teaching job for him in the fall semester so if nothing else comes up, he’ll at least be employed again.
Where ever he ends up, he will always be the baby in my arms on the plane , the young boy I kept entertained on long trans Pacific flights and the young man I’ve sent off into the world. In my mind’s eye, he’ll always be my Andy, with his name pinned on his shirt, as I sent him off for his first day of kindergarten, my son.