There are a few reasons why I love flying. The clouds. The fact that I’m flying somewhere. And the strangers fate might plop me next to. There’s always that baited anticipation as you approach your seat number. Every once in a blue moon I get seated next to a really funny person, a really gorgeous guy or my favorite, a wise old man who talks my head off about the mysteries of life.
This weekend I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I just wanted to sleep my way to Chicago where I would connect to home and to Benjamin. Southwest took fate away from all of us and lets you choose your seat. Very interesting new dynamic. But, hey, I’m always up for choosing my fate. So there I am in the aisle – looking, looking … basically looking for someone else who looks sleepy and not smelly. And then I saw her. Peeking out from under her daddy’s legs – a little girl just about Benjamin’s age.
“Oooohhhh” I said, “Can I sit here?”
“Sure!” Her dad looked at me like I was nuts. I mean who wants to sit next to a toddler on a plane? Me! Me! Please! So I jumped right in there. We dove into a game of peek-a-boo as I explained to her dad that I was a mom, desperately missing my son and not a crazy person.
Eventually she snuggled into her dad’s chest – and dozed off. Her little legs were sprawled out on his lap. His arms were wrapped tightly around her so she wouldn’t wake up. Good dad. And then he stroked her hair, kissed her forehead and fell asleep. His head on hers.
Okay, so here’s the really freaky part…When they were sleeping I imagined (just for a nano-second) that they were mine. That I had this amazing husband who was cuddling up with my child so I could have a break. Or in this case, flying off a day ahead of his wife so she could have fun in Austin. There it was – a father loving his daughter more than anything.
I guess that’s a rare sight for a single mom. Like the 8th wonder of the world or something.
[photo credit: http://www.patagoniafinance.com]
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