As I stood waiting on my niece to walk through the sliding doors, I took in the scenes unfolding around me, a quiet bystander of life.
Around me people stood quietly waiting, tentative, excitedly patient, tensing with each noise, each footstep and the rolling trundle of baggage trolleys. Strange languages on either side couldn’t mask the the nature of small talk, the stilted chit-chat filling the last few moments.
Cameras whirr and click as friends and family embrace. A blonde haired girl drops her doll to the floor as she runs for her father, scooped in joyous arms, smiles bouncing off walls. Mobile phones are turned on and quizzed over by bemused faces, as gaggles of red tanned faces laughingly grasp hold of the last few moments of their holiday.
Laughter explodes over the growing din, handshakes and hugs are squeezed in over bags and suitcases, as a solitary man strides past it all, oblivious and sullen, determined in his gait as he has somewhere else to go.
These are the snippets I capture as I too am waiting, each quiet hiss of the sliding doors calls my gaze.
And then, as she almost walks right past me, there is my niece and I join in the throng of welcomes. A hug and kiss before we trundle off towards home.