Welcome Home! | Mum and Dad Arrive in Brisbane

On Tuesday 18th July at ten-fifteen in the morning, I raced into Brisbane’s Domestic terminal, eyes peeled for ‘Arrivals.’ Thankfully, between frowning at the digital board and staring off towards the rows of check in desks, I caught sight of the amused expression on the face of the lady at the information booth beside me. As I walked towards her, her smile grew, and she asked: How can I help? 

I told her that my parents were arriving on a flight from Melbourne at ten-twenty, with Virgin Australia, to gate 40b... how close could I get? I imagined that, although we were in the domestic terminal, and Melbourne – in context – isn’t so far away, she heard the excitement in my voice and the Englishness of my accent. She could tell I wasn’t just waiting to welcome family back from a weekend away. It had been a little longer than that. She pointed me in the direction of security and told me if I went through there then I’d be able to go anywhere I liked. With only a tote bag on me, I breezed through the scans and swipes and headed up the escalators on the other side, counting the gates until I found the one I wanted. 

Above the door of the gate was a TV screen, on which there was an estimated landing time of 10.27. Clutching the sign I'd made, crafted from pencils from work and an old Cheerios box, I paced behind the sparse seating, unable to be still and simultaneously unable to go very far. 

The staff member by the door disappeared down the tunnel. I couldn’t see the plane, but the screen had updated and told us it had landed. I waited at the end of the bollards that formed the priority queue – somewhere I’d never had reason to be before – as the first of the people appeared. 

I watched unfamiliar faces come into focus and disperse, wriggling to catch snippets of the people behind. A brush of hair the right colour, attached to an unknown head. A t-shirt Dad would wear, only he wasn’t. And then, because at some point it had to be, it was them. They were walking through the doors and they saw me. I raised my sign and, voice thick with tears, said it aloud: welcome home.

We hugged and cried and hugged again. Six months of separation, of missing home, of loving my new life, of wishing they could see it. And here they were. 

Now, our adventures together begin.