He Ran Through an Airport With Me

A few months ago I read a blog post which referenced this quote:
"My love life will never be satisfactory until someone runs through an airport to stop me from getting on a flight." - Teenage post of the week via Huffington Post
(The post talks about what love really looks like in real life - well worth checking out).

At the time, Kevin pointed out the absurdity of waiting until the last minute when the girl has already spent lots of money on a ticket and may never see her luggage again - not to mention the guy would have to buy his own ticket to get through security - couldn't the guy make up his mind before then?

Kevin and I have had a lot of airport moments in our relationship, but in 3 months of dating, 8 months of engagement, and 6 years of marriage, not once has he begged me not to get on an airplane while romantically declaring his undying (if somewhat belated) love.  And I'm okay with that.  Because...

He has run through an airport with me.  More than once, in fact.  Most recently after a ridiculous delay, he ran ahead through the airport to convince the airline employees to hold the flight for us while I ran behind (pregnant and sick) balancing Juliana on top of a cart full of luggage.  They held the flight and we avoided spending $1000 on new tickets.

This sixth year of marriage may not have involved a lot of crazy romantic gestures, but it's been made up of many real life, small moments of commitment and care.

He made me breakfast in bed during the weeks when I was too sick to get up in the morning.  When I couldn't handle walking in the kitchen and wouldn't even let him bring Chinese food in the house, he found something for him and Juliana to eat every day.  He put Juliana to bed every night when I was busy throwing up, and he kept doing it after I had stopped throwing up and was just tired.

He cleaned up throw up - mine and Juliana's - on multiple occasions without complaining.  He was thrown up all over by a sick Juliana and he still kept holding her.  (This year held a lot of throw up.)

He went to the supermarket and vegetable market and to buy milk and carted Juliana around on his bike when I was sick at home.

He packed boxes and repacked boxes when a certain small person unpacked them.  He sorted through stacks of papers and got rid of things he would rather have kept to satisfy my desire to purge.

He relinquished more and more of the bed as I took it over with increasingly large numbers of pillows in an attempt to get comfortable.  He got up with Juliana in the mornings so I could sleep longer.

He fixed the toilet and the light and the vent and put back up the classy plastic in the broken windows.

He occupied Juliana on long plane flights and walked with her in airports so I could sit down.

He drove really fast without endangering any of our lives so we could get to the hospital on time for the baby to be born.

He searched out good deals on plane tickets and found a way to get us extra frequent flier miles for our trip back to China.  He figured out all the logistics for getting passports and visas.

He was patient when I was snappy, difficult, critical, and unappreciative.

He never stopped me from getting on a plane.  Instead he got on the plane with me and has stayed with me ever since.

Happy sixth anniversary, Kevin.