View from the Green

By Lindsey Pizzica Rotolo
While waiting to board a plane at Bradley Airport last month, I watched a couple of U.S. soldiers returning from Iraq. I smiled as they greeted their families who were at the gate to meet them. Then I noticed one family who was standing just a few feet away from us. A 30-something mother wearing a T-shirt that said, “Proud Army Wife” and her three or four year-old son, who wore camouflaged shorts and clutched a bouquet of red, white and blue carnations.
Everyone appeared to have come off the plane, including the flight attendants, who always bring up the rear. But here was this little boy with his mother, still waiting. The little boy barraged his mother with questions, “Where’s daddy?” “Why hasn’t he come off the plane yet?” “Is he really coming home today?” “He’s not coming, is he?”
I began thinking the same thing. The minutes kept ticking by and then the pilots came off the plane. I was fairly certain at this point that this little boy’s dad wasn’t coming home and felt a lump rising in my throat. But the mother kept answering her son in the affirmative. “Yes, he’s coming home today.” “Of course he’s on this plane.” “Don’t worry, he’ll be here soon.” “Be patient.”
I looked at her and thought, “Lady, you better prepare your son for the fact that his dad is not coming home today.” But she didn’t look nervous or anxious. After what seemed like an eternity, a man in an Army uniform finally walked through the gate. The little boy broke into a dead sprint, threw himself on his father and screamed, “Daddy, daddy, daddy! I love you! I missed you! I can’t believe you’re here!”
I soon realized I wasn’t the only one deeply moved by this homecoming. Women around me were dabbing their eyes, lowering their heads – some outright sobbing.
After the soldier greeted his wife and started walking towards baggage claim, people began calling out to him. “Welcome home, sir.” “God bless you, soldier.” “Thank you for your service, sir.” Some people stood up as he passed by.
When I got back to Norfolk after that trip, I walked around our property for awhile marveling at all the flowers and greenery that had sprouted up in my absence. Then I went on one of those heavenly walks without a single car passing by for nearly an hour. It was so beautiful and peaceful. I was happy to be home.
Summer had officially arrived and the lightness of spirit that comes along with it. But I couldn’t help thinking about all the people who can’t make it back home: the deceased, the incarcerated, refugees. I couldn’t imagine anything worse than being stuck somewhere, constantly yearning for home, but unable to get there.
How fortunate we are to be here, at home, in this most beautiful part of the world. How about some T-shirts that say, “Lucky Norfolk Resident”?
Happy Summer everyone.