After my parents found a parking spot and joined us, we claimed a spot up against the belt barriers put in place to control the throngs of expectant family members.
"There were 14 other sisters who went to Atlanta the same day as Jennie," my mom said. "And I imagine a lot of them are coming home to Utah." That explained the crowds and the kind man offering to email us a video of the homecoming, explaining that he had hired a videographer and was willing to share footage. (I have to admit . . . most of us were skeptical of his generous offer initially because it seemed like a pretty good money-making scheme to hang out at the airport on Wednesdays and Thursdays to sell parents videos of missionaries on escalators. But he was sincere and not in it for the money, it turned out.)
Before too long, Leslie showed up as well. "Oh, were we supposed to dress up funny for her?" she asked. No, it was just tacky Thursday at the high school, and in our rush to beat Jennie to the airport there hadn't been time for him to change into different clothes. And now he didn't want to.
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| Not shown: tacky shorts, neon orange knee socks, and sandals. We decided the orange had to stay because of UGA. |
Finally, someone shouted, "They're starting to come!" Of course, the "they" wasn't the missionaries yet, but we cheered all the same. There was a mom with a baby and a little girl, and they all smiled and waved at us, basking in the jubilation. In fact, they went back up the escalator and down again just to be part of the cheering.
Then the next set of people started to come. These people looked well groomed and Park City bound, ski gear on their backs and coffee cups in their hands.
"They must be here for Sundance," my mom said. "Welcome to Utah!" she said genially to all of them, who looked perplexed at the hubbub. They had people waiting for them too, though none of their signs were quite as colorful as ours.
And then . . . it was the missionaries! I had already figured I would cry when we saw them -- after all, I had teared up that morning while watching Cinderella with Joseph at the part where the mice had started throwing rice at the wedding. In actuality, I think we were all able to keep our emotions in check, thanks in part to the commentary we provided the whole time.
"Okay, that missionary cannot find his family. That is really sad."
"Mom, stop saying hi to everybody! Mormon people don't need to be welcomed to Utah."
"That guy wasn't Mormon. He was holding a coffee cup."
"Where is Jennie?"
"Probably in the bathroom. Or teaching a discussion."
"Should we find a song to sing when she comes? Like, 'Here we are together' or 'We're all in this together'?"
"She's still not here! Probably using the bathroom again."
"That guy must be a big deal. All these people wanted his autograph."
"Oh good, that missionary found his family after all."
"Look, that security guard made the mom go back behind the belt barrier."
"Man, another blond girl that's not Jennie. When is she going to come?"
Finally, after watching most of the rest of the plane empty out, we suddenly spotted her.
"Jennie Jennie Jennie! Sister MOooooooooooooon!!!" we all started to yell. She seemed to glance at us and then look away.
"Oh she's embarrassed by us, she's not looking." (I think the videographer was pointing the camera at us at this point . . . probably this footage can be deleted.) Eventually she noticed us again, and we had her come under the belt barrier to hug us all
"We're all together again, we're here we're here," Kiana sang, and we laughed instead of cried. (except maybe my dad)
After that, it was all hugs and smiles and photos until most everyone else was gone.
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| Wrong camera |
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And just like that, after more than two years of us not being together, it was like she had never been gone.
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