I’m looking around the airplane on a homeward-bound flight and
wondering what stories each of my fellow passengers is living.
I’m heading home after helping my in-laws adjust to life
after a major surgery. I know deep in my heart everything will be ok, but I’m wondering
if I went home too soon. “Did I do the right thing?" I think. "Can they handle this on
their own?” I’m conflicted. Yet I needed to go.
Passengers looked at me as I boarded earlier. One man stared
at me as I buckled my safety belt and, later, as I teared up watching a movie I’d
downloaded. What is he thinking about me? What story do other passengers think
I’m living? Maybe they don’t think anything at all. They could just be passively
watching. I look around at them too, and wonder to myself, “What are their stories?”
Is the bald guy in the white hat a few rows forward coming
back from Disneyworld, or is he on his way to his father’s funeral? The woman in
the red leather jacket seated on the aisle next to me – is she on a business
trip, meeting a lover, going to her 40th high school reunion?
I learn that the man in the middle seat next to me is
traveling with his wife and son. Where to? Why aren’t they seated together? Are
they celebrating, grieving, playing, leaving? I could ask, but I don’t. I’m content
to be in my own world, thinking, worrying, about my own family.
Other passengers looking around just see me eating my
sandwich, typing. They have no concept of the conversation in my head. The
conversation that tells me, “It’s ok you’re going home today. We each have to
find our own way in life.” We can share the road, but ultimately the journey is
our own.
That woman in seat 14A – what’s her journey? Is today’s
story a difficult one? A happy one? I will never know. So I will just hope the
best for her. And for the man in the white hat, and the woman in the red
leather jacket. And for all my fellow passengers on this journey of life.
Time is free. It’s the most important gift you can give.
