Next to me

There is a woman riding next to me on the plane, in seat 29E, sleeping soundly. This is wise of her, for it is an overnight flight and will ultimately land at the beginning of a long, hot day. I should do likewise, and maybe I will, but there are butterflies afloat somewhere along my upper GI tract, and the promise of the approaching beverage service, with gingerale to settle them is enough to keep me awake for now.




This woman is now on her way to the other side of the world, where even the stars in the sky will not be the same as those seen from home. She has left her children behind in the care of her parents, maybe bearing both a twinge of regret and of relief, for in a sense they are both her calling and her constraint (as all callings are to some degree). She has left other things as well; familiar routines, friends in need, willing obligations, as well as the certainty of purpose such things bring.

Why? Could the man in 29D really deserve such company? Certainly not. But then again, can such trusting companionship ever be deserved? If not, at least it can be received with humble thanks, treasured and not taken for granted. That he must do. If he ever puts down his coffee and takes off his headphones, I will tell him this... how truly blessed he is to have such a companion along on his journey.


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Location:somewhere over South America