Among the Gods at the Philadelphia Airport

I am people watching and eavesdropping at the Philadelphia airport this evening.

A lean, precise man with teal eyes that match his tie walks by. I am hungry and I wonder how he handles airport food. The man parks his luggage and Brooks Brothers bag and orders a tall confection with hot fudge sauce from the frozen yogurt booth. He sits in the chair next to me and eats it with relish. This is how you handle airport food, I think.

A pride of handsome men walk slowly by, laughing low and intimate with each other. I fall for each of them, for their surefootedness on the earth. Or at least tile.

“We’ll get burritos first,” says a woman wearing sandals and socks to a group of kids wearing yellow “Children’s Chorus” shirts. They are humming and meandering. “We’ll worry about dessert later,” the woman resolves with a grin.

It’s not just the pride of men. I’ve fallen in love with the whole cast tonight.

I hope the man next to me will never leave, that the kids will keep on humming their sweet hum, that I can remember to slow the day down enough to see the divineness that walks within it. In my rush, I forget that we all hold the bewildering, enchanting mystery of living in us. We are stewards of the ineffable.

I stand up, gather my bags. I will buy the slim golden pretzels I only get when I’m traveling. And I turn and walk to get my snack among the ordinary gods here in the Philadelphia airport this evening.

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