Getting dropped off

I've lost track of how many times I've been back to Sydney in recent years. If I were to guess, probably around 8-10 times last year? Somebody fact check me. The trips admittedly have become a little bit easier with cost, as I've been fortunate enough to have more deposable income with work and career, however it has become more difficult from a physical perspective. I'm not sure if it's age, but the tailbone does not like sleeping on those upright seats, and my sleep quality has definitely deteriorated. It's a small price to pay given how much I enjoy going back home to Sydney.

One thing that I have been thinking about lately is the pick ups and drops off to and from the airport. It's quite a small thing, but there's always been somebody waiting for me, or willing to drop me off for my flight out. Pick up from the International Airport Express passenger pick-up area. Drop off at Gate G for the late night flight out.

Most often that not dad gets stuck with this chore, duty, obligation. It's a small passage of time where we catch up, on what's been happening. The pick-up is pretty scripted. It's always a conversation about the flight, and whether it was busy and how long I'm in town for. I think it's always usually a pretty full flight, and usually for a couple a days. Sometimes, there's a question about work. 

The drop offs are a little less scripted. Talking about whatever is on our mind. Cars. Relatives. Health. Travel. Life. The drop offs remind me of being dropped off when I was a kid, whether it be being dropped off at school (where at times I would ask to be dropped off down the road in primary school). Or, being dropped off at a friend's place in high school. Or at the station for work. Or now, being dropped off at the airport to go back home.

I appreciate these little moments.