A thousand stories surround me.
I’m sitting on an airplane bound for Charlotte. It’s going to be a long flight from San Diego. A full flight here in these summer months.
Next to me sits a woman with her two-year-old son. He’s a sweet boy, but he’d hoped for a window seat to look down on the world. Alas, he ended up with one of those tweener rows—windows in the row in front and behind. Instead of an outside view, they read quietly about Lightning McQueen. The mom is hoping for a soon-to-be-napping boy.
Across the aisle, I see an Ace bandage wrapping a crooked wrist. It must have been a good fall to produce the swelling there. But I cannot ask because he’s leaned back—fully asleep.
On this Monday morning flight, I can see the business guy in the aisle behind me. He’s slipped his bag, briefcase expertly away, and he’s likewise fully asleep, knowing that when he lands, he’ll hit the ground running.
There’s a guy in the middle seat across the way, masked, leaning forward, head to the seat in front, also getting some shut eye.
Around me I see a mixture of headphones, magazines, even PowerPoint slides. Some for pleasure. Some for work. Some trying to pass the time.
All of us trying to get somewhere. Some more intentional than others.
Pretty soon there will be a cart with flight attendants in front and back. They’ll be passing out drinks and connecting with those stories far more than I can in Seat 17C.
But it’s worth remembering. We’ve all got our stories, and we are all waiting to connect.
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Published July 18, 2022