Moments of leisure have become rare in my life. Even when I’m not actively doing something, my mind keeps racing toward what’s next or what I could’ve done better just now. I’m constantly inside my head, ruminating over the course of events—past, present, and future.
Now, heading home for a short break, I feel a blend of nervousness and excitement that only fills my mind with more thoughts. I am in the airport, waiting to board my flight, and I am stuck inside my head. Another spiral.
To escape, I try to zoom out and look around at the faces nearby. People-watching is something I enjoy deeply yet rarely allow myself time for. I’m usually too busy being stuck in my own head. But now, I shift my attention to those around me, subtly wondering about their lives and their stories. Not in a creepy way, of course—just quietly observing, imagining.
There’s a guy in steel-rimmed glasses, wearing a mustard hoodie and dark trousers. He has short, dark-brown hair and is talking on the phone in a soft tone, though his leg keeps shaking. Anxiety? His face looks serious and a little concerned, but who can say for sure? Maybe he’s on a quick trip, or better yet, maybe he’s heading home too. I hope his worries fade soon.
Next to him is a mother with her daughter. I can’t know for sure that she’s her mother, but there’s something unmistakably maternal in the way she brushes back the girl’s hair and fastens it with a pink clip that matches her dress. The mother is on a FaceTime call, glancing at the screen with that delicate blend of patience and mild impatience as she tries to coax her daughter to sit still and talk.
Across from them, a couple sits with an air of quiet anticipation. The man has a stern face, his expression focused and assertive. The woman, wrapped in an orange dupatta, looks tired but unperturbed. She doesn’t appear intimidated or fearful—just weary, perhaps accustomed to the man’s harsh demeanor. Her face reflects the kind of exhaustion that goes deeper than words.
My gaze shifts to a kid in a black tracksuit and Nike shoes, wearing a green cap that looks oddly out of place with the rest of his outfit. His face is scrunched in clear annoyance, clinging to his mother, who watches him with concern. She tries to brighten his mood, but her efforts don’t seem to be getting through.
Then, there’s a girl who looks like she’s stepped out of Pinterest. She’s dressed in a white shirt, blue jeans, and cream-colored Crocs, with long hair falling gracefully over a bag of Krispy Kreme donuts on her lap. She holds a coffee in one hand and a book in the other, already traveling somewhere far beyond the terminal, absorbed in her reading. Her expression is calm, a portrait of quiet enjoyment.
Across from me, a man sits with a similarly relaxed expression, his gaze fixed on his phone. He hasn’t looked up once. His demeanor has a kind of world-worn calm, the look of someone who’s traveled many places, both in life and in the air.
And watching them all is an anxious girl clutching her bags and a head full of worries. I glance at my reflection in the window, wondering what a stranger might imagine about me. Perhaps they’d see a nervous traveler, brimming with anticipation and holding a secret close to her chest. They wouldn’t know the half of it. They wouldn’t know that the surprise waiting at the other end of this trip is for my family, and that it’s what’s filling me with excitement, nerves, and the wish that every step closer to home will be worth it.
In a strange way, watching these people has grounded me. Maybe we’re all just travelers with our own hopes, heading toward someone or something that matters. And somehow, knowing that makes me feel a little less alone.