From nowhere to somewhere...

I was never quite fond of airports. 

They were always impersonal, artificial and aseptically clean of any and all human emotions. Despite my wanderlust and the fact that they were my portals to trips, vacations, exciting memories and wonderful life experiences; airports remained these strange places of transit, that I associated being somewhere and no where. 

They were always laced with a certain anxiety - of ticking clocks, uncertain time-zones, long queues, uncomfortable chairs, overpriced coffee and the likes. Somehow, the angst of parting from someone always weighed over the excitement of getting to some new place. And often times, the anxiety and excitement of getting to a new place left me in a state of limbo in the airport - a state of transit. I was never a frequent traveler and airports were associated with a state of weariness in my mind. A weariness that accompanies that frantic activity of packing up, finishing chores, meeting deadlines, making preparations and actually getting somewhere. 

Yes, I know. I am making even a vacation sound like a task - but the truth is that when one is doing everything, even the good things take a toll on you. 

And so airports were always these impersonal spaces where nothing good or horrible really happened. 

That was, of course till a year ago when airports started making their presence felt in my life. 

Now, I have some of my fondest memories in the aseptic corridors and halls of an airport. Of meeting the people I love, of falling into an unexpected embrace and never wanting to let go. What began with a personal story, one july morning in an airport, has grown into something unexpected. A friendship that seems to grow stronger with time. A relationship that seems to evolve with time. 

Airports have become imbued with unexpected meaning and memories. What after all is the meaning of driving 3 hours to meet someone for 1 hour at an airport? Irrationality reigns supreme in many of these moments and yet I have not regretted them. 

Memories of stories over cups of coffee. Memories of shared meals and laughter. All in those very same aseptic corridors. What used to be laced with memories of anxiety, tension and interminable waits to get some place, now feels like a place in itself. A place that has an existence of its own. A place that triggers emotions and memories - things I want to hold onto. 

Things I am in no hurry, whatsoever, to forget. 

It is amazing how places become so much more when we have memories associated with them.