The Journey Inward

Arriving at my gate, which had been moved to the complete other end of the large Atlanta airport, the flight crew was announcing over the loud speaker that they were still looking for people willing to sit in the emergency exit row. I walked over and stood behind a tall, elegant woman. We both volunteered to change our seats to any of the handful of seats in two different exit rows.

When I boarded a little later, I found the same woman already seated in our two seat row. As I sat, she introduced herself as Hope, and I shared that my youngest daughter’s middle name is Hope. I assumed that would be the extent of our conversation, a bit of small talk, and I would get to my book, which I was excited to dive back into during the flight back to New Jersey. Instead, it was the start of a conversation that lasted the entire two hours we spent on the plane, my book unopened in my lap for the whole trip. Nonstop flight, nonstop talking.

To set the scene, Hope was sophisticated, accomplished, educated, successful and worked with many famous people. She wore a gorgeous black dress with rhinestone slippers on her feet. Beside her sat me, an elementary school teacher on a school break, wearing loose and flowy pants, a v neck patterned t-shirt, scuffed running sneakers, a Yankees baseball hat (despite our loss) and two long braids falling from underneath, framing my face. Hope was coming from the funeral of a well known jazz guitarist. I was coming from a long weekend away with my oldest daughter.

Hope and I talked politics, civil rights, women’s rights, human rights, racism, ageism, misogyny, the power of our voices, boycotts, curiosity, compassion, listening, discussing, seeking to understand, travel, living alone and dogs. We covered so many topics in such depth, had more than a few laughs, traded book titles and websites, and before we parted, she typed her name and cell number into my phone and gave me a giant hug.

I told her how much I had enjoyed meeting her and how special she had made my flight. As I turned to walk away, she called, “We’ve got to have hope!” I had just had two hours of Hope and was grateful for the connection, even if I don’t get invited to all the fancy functions she gushed about having me to! This world is full of hope.

Photo: Flemington, NJ. 11.12.24 by LA