Chaos erupted at the airport. Loud announcements, bewildering flight boards, children’s cries, tense looks at watches, and apprehensive footsteps on the tile floor were all part of its own crazy existence. It all combined to provide a loud background noise that drowned out human sounds. There was a ringing air of hustle, annoyance, exhaustion, and hope, as though everyone was carrying their own burdens and none had the courage to discuss them.
Jeffrey Lewis, a thirty-four-year-old man who appeared older than his years, was standing in the middle of this crowd. He was by himself. He was the only support for the small person pushed against his chest due to circumstances, not because he didn’t want to be with someone. Even though he was sleeping, his eleven-month-old son Sean, who had rosy cheeks and warm breath, appeared unhappy. It had been almost a day since the fever subsided. Jeffrey was stranded in New York during this period after missing two planes and having to bid farewell to a father he had never quite forgiven.
He was now standing at gate B14, as though the path home was just around the corner of the hallway. However, the ticket he had in his pocket felt heavy. The boarding process was delayed.
One another postponement. And waiting one again. His weary body fought the impulse to sit down and give up as he saw other parents, families, and people just travelling. However, he was unable to. He needed to go back. to Seattle. To the physician. To the cradle of Sean. To the life that continued despite all.
“Jeffrey Lewis?”
He pivoted. In front of him stood a young airline worker, calm yet with a hint of weariness in her eyes. Softly, almost empathetically, she said:
“We have one seat left.”
“One?” His ears were so unbelievable.
“Only one,” she nodded. “We understand the situation is difficult. But we can seat you now. If you agree.”
Jeffrey looked down at his son. The infant’s skin was burning through his clothing, and his breathing was fast. Something broke within of him. He had to decide whether to leave the child here or fly alone. Not possible. That was impossible for him. But it’s also impossible to not take him. This was a need rather than a choice.
He said, “I’m ready,” in a shaky voice. “Will I have to hold the baby in my arms?”
“Yes. But if you agree – we’ll take you on board.”
He let out a sigh, only now recognising how long it had been since his last cry. “Thank you…” Tears started to well up now, but he suppressed them. Not now.
The world around them became a little quieter when they got on the plane. Already seated, the passengers were reading, listening to music, or simply shutting their eyes. Jeffrey moved cautiously between the chairs while humming a lullaby to help Sean relax. He could feel the baby’s every breath, every twitch, every movement. He was aware that this was his duty. His obligation. His affection.
The flight attendant told him, “28B. The very back,” after taking a quick look at his ticket.
He started to settle in when he heard a voice:
“Excuse me.”
She was the one. Stylish and self-assured. from the first class. In a formal suit, tall, with straight shoulders, but with gentle, perceptive eyes.
She questioned the hostess, “Is this your seat?”
“No, ma’am, he’s in economy.”
She turned to Jeffrey.
“Sir, you and your baby wouldn’t like to move here?”
He stopped. That was unexpected. I didn’t know why.
“I can’t,” This seat was purchased by you.
She grinned. Warmly, but not in a condescending or disdainful manner. As if they had a memory of what it was like to be in need.
“Yes. I want to give it to you because of this.”
After a moment of hesitation, the stewardess just held up her hand:
“I insist.”
A second. Time slowed. This moment seemed to be noticed by everyone in the vicinity. The businessman on the other side set down his tablet. One of the students removed her headphones. In the following row, a child poked his head between the seatbacks. Let it be so, even the stewardess nodded.
Jeffrey took his time getting comfortable in the plush first-class seat. Sean was carefully adjusted, and his comfort level was assessed. Without saying anything, the woman accepted his crumpled boarding card and made her way to the exit. She departed in the manner of individuals who understand the importance of kindness and do not request gratitude.
They touched down in Seattle three hours later. Jeffrey searched the crowd for her, but she was nowhere to be seen. disappeared. As though she had never been. Her act, however, lingered deep within him like a seed that would eventually bloom.
A week went by. An envelope without a return address arrived in the mailbox. There is only one card inside, nicely handwritten:
“A stranger handed up her first-class seat when my daughter was two years old so I could feed her in peace. My perspective on life was altered by that gesture. Be kind to others. Always – L.”
For a long moment, Jeffrey gazed at these words. Tears rolled silently down his cheeks. Kindness, he realised, was not a coincidence. It was a chain. A circle. He also participated in its movement.
Two years went by.
Sean was not as silent as he had been on the plane. He pointed at clouds, spoke incoherently, and made up stories as he went along. Once more, they were in the air. But now that he had determined that some things were more important than money, Jeffrey was holding a first-class ticket—not because he had gotten richer.
He observed a young mother at the boarding gate. Dark bags under her eyes, a sobbing baby in her arms, a pram and a bag slung over her shoulder. She appeared as though she hadn’t slept in days. Maybe, just like him, she was going home, where she would find herself exhausted and expecting a kid.
Jeffrey came over and gave her shoulder a gentle pat:
“Hello. Would you like to take my seat?”
Her eyes were wide as she gazed at him:
“Really?”
He gave a nod.
“Someone once did this for me. Pass kindness on.”
Kindness therefore proceeded indefinitely, softly, but unavoidably from one person to another.
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