That Mom

I passed that mom in the security line at the airport. You know the one. One kid was jabbering a mile a minute and the other was sitting backwards in the stroller screaming. That mom. We zigged and zagged through the security line, and I gave her a nod, a smile, and a reassurance. I’ve been there. I said. She sighed, and smiled a little. I wanted to say more, but we zigged again.

I wanted to say Don’t worry about the people who are glaring. They are, it’s true, but you won’t see them again and anyway they’ve either been there or will be there or aren’t parents and don’t get it.

People always tell you how fast the time will move, but it’s hard to grasp until you’re in that moment, thinking “I was there, not that long ago, and it all seems so distant now.”