poetinside

I knew no one was coming, but I looked anyway. A tall, somber, dark-skinned man with a bald head dressed in a Fubu shirt and dark denim jeans was rolling onto the balls of his feet, a red baseball cap folded between his hands. At the sight of a minuscule Asian woman clutching the hands of two golden, beautiful girls, both with their unruly curls tied back in blue and white ribbons that failed to contain frizzy flyaways, the man whooped aloud and laughed, the joyous sound echoing through the arrivals hall. My overburdened luggage cart threatened to runaway from me as I made my way exhausted towards the taxi stand, unsure of where I would tell the driver to take me. I knew then what it had been. Now that it was gone, I knew what it had all meant.