By Ola Joseph
Flying from Houston to Bentonville, Arkansas recently, I had only
been sitting in my seat in row 7C for a few minutes when the flight
attendant asked the passenger sitting in 7B and me to move to row 8B
and 8C respectively. Without any fuss, we complied and then asked her
why we had to be moved.
She explained that a woman and her baby needed to sit in row 7.
We asked why. She told us that there was an oxygen mask available
there just in case the baby needed oxygen during the flight. So, we
complied.
My plan was to catch up on my reading and go over my speech
again before landing in Arkansas. I was determined not to let anything
distract me. Of course, things don’t always go according to plan.
A few minutes later, a woman came from the back of the plane with
her baby. The baby was only about ten-months-old, with clear blue
eyes, wavy blond hair and full rosy cheeks. As soon as the woman sat
down, the little girl began to cry. She was restless and yelling. For a
few minutes the mother couldn’t control her. I tried to block out the
noise and concentrate as best I could on my work. Then something
remarkable happened.
The little girl poked her head into the tiny space between the headrest
of her mother’s seat and the wall of the plane. She gently bumped her
head on the wall a little bit and then turned to look back.
At that point I looked at her. Her eyes met mine. We locked eyes for
a split moment. I smiled at her, she smiled back. I wiggled my fingers,
she giggled – a little at first, then loudly. I made a doggie-ear gesture;
she giggled some more and began to laugh so much that her mother
turned to look at what was amusing her daughter.
She looked at me expressionlessly, as if she could see through me.
She didn’t meet my gaze. There was no eye contact in her look but I
didn’t mind; I turned my attention back to my newfound friend.
She seemed to have found a friend and I had found a playmate. I
forgot about my presentation that I had planned to work on and began
to play with the little girl. We played hide-and-seek for some time.
Like any little one with a short attention span, she lost interest and
moved on to something else. I went back to concentrating on my work.
Not long after that, her little fingers came through the opening again
trying to touch my laptop screen. I looked up, and she withdrew her
hand in a playful way.
Her mother slid her shoulder/body trying to block the little girl from
poking her head through the opening. She pulled her back to her lap
and the little child began to cry again, yelling so loud that the flight
attendant brought her a toy.
Just when I thought my little friend had forgotten about me, there
she was stretching her tiny fingers to reach me. I didn’t see her because
I was looking down, until my fellow passenger tapped me on the
shoulder and pointed up to where she was, reaching over her mother’s
seat. Again, I put out my hand to give a high-five; she withdrew her
hand and giggled.
Off and on, we played hide-and-seek until we got to Arkansas. As
her mother walked away, my little friend was waving to me. I again
wiggled my fingers.
After the plane landed and during my one-hour drive to Fort Smith,
the innocent look on my little friend’s face kept coming back to me.
On many occasions I broke out smiling as I remembered her undiluted
friendship. Friendship without strings attached. Pure friendship that
was not based on who I was or was not. A smile so real and genuine.
My friend was an angel sent to touch me.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
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