Summer Interlude: The Same Line

Maybe I’m tired. Maybe I’m emotional. Maybe after almost an entire summer of packing and unpacking, airports and rental cars, tents and trails, early mornings and late nights, I’m just feeling all of it today. We are heading to Sitka for our 12th and final STEAM in the PARK camp of the summer, which means today was the last time we would head to an airport and board a plane for STEAM in the PARK this year. I knew that would probably get to me at some point. I just didn’t expect it to happen in the TSA PreCheck line.

As we headed through security this morning, Steve had Touchless ID on his boarding pass, and for some reason mine had disappeared. The agent told Steve he could go ahead and use the other line while I went through the regular PreCheck line. Steve didn’t even hesitate. He just said, “No, I’m going to hang with her.”

And for some reason, those words hit me harder than they probably should have. Because that is exactly what he has done. He has hung with me. Not just today. Not just this summer. He has hung with me through every crazy idea, every “Steve, what if we…,” every park, every mile, every tent, every box of supplies, every flight, every exhausted night, every moment when I wondered if we could actually pull off the thing I had somehow dreamed up.

There have been plenty of times when he could have taken the easier line. There have probably been plenty of times when the faster line would have made a whole lot more sense. But over and over again, he has chosen my line. He has carried the bags, driven the miles, filmed the stories, solved the problems, made me laugh when I was tired, and believed in this work right alongside me.

So there I stood this morning looking at that silly red line on the airport floor and trying not to get emotional because suddenly it felt like so much more than TSA PreCheck. Thirty-four years of marriage, thousands and thousands of miles, more adventures than I could ever count, and this wild life we have built together somehow wrapped itself up in six little words: “No, I’m going to hang with her.”

And he has. He does. And I hope somewhere along the way he knows that there is no one else I would rather have hanging with me.

One more flight. One more STEAM in the PARK. One more camp. Sitka, Alaska, here we come. And I’m awfully thankful that after all these years, we’re still choosing the same line.