Scott and I are in that back-and-forth serpentining line to get through security at the airport. I have a smile on my face. I’m trying to maintain this as my default face. Sometimes, as people wind past me, they respond with their own smiles to my smile. I love when that happens. Connections!
One man – maybe our eldest son’s age – glances up and sees my smile and smiles this sweet smile that contains joy and humor and kindness. A healing smile. When we pass each other again, I point out to him that we’ll be passing each other again soon, and we’ll get to smile more smiles. He starts laughing. The next time we wind past each other I tell him that this looks like it will be our last smile-exchange. He grins and says, “It’s been a pleasure!”
We meet again at that place where we need to load our stuff into bins. There is a shortage of bins, so my smile partner and I go and find bins to give to the people behind us. When we get through the people-scanner machine and the baggage-scanner machine, we meet again on the other side of security. We introduce ourselves – he says his name is “Kareem” and I (who have now mastered the comedic timing of presenting my name just right), pause before saying, “Karen.” He starts laughing. He says he’s bound for Michigan, and I tell him we’re on our way to Pittsburgh, and we wish each other safe travels before parting.
When Scott and I get seated on the plane, we discover that there’s an empty seat on the other side of us. This is sort of miraculous – our plane is completely full, except for that one seat. When it comes time for the flight attendant to do the safety presentation, she sees the empty seat and uses it as her staging area. She is fun. She and Scott, who’s sitting in the middle seat, banter cheerfully for a bit, before the safety presentation starts. For the first time in years probably, I am glued to the safety presentation. Every so often she looks over at me and sees my rapt attention, and starts grinning. When she finishes I tell her she did a FANTASTIC job! “I should have videotaped it!” I say, and she starts laughing.
The flight is uneventful. As I look down on the earth 30,000′ below, I send out love to all the humanity passing below us. I feel the plane embraced in Love. I see all the people in it are expressions of Love. We are in a bubble of Love.
When we land, we need to take the underground train to get to our rental car. As we load into the train, a sweet brown-skinned woman of about my age gestures to the pole she’s holding onto, and invites me to share it with her. Kindness. Everyone taking care of each other.
I have found hope for the world in my fellow travelers.
I met so many lovely people on our trip to California.
Scott and I got to the parking lot later than we’d expected because the exit off-ramp from I-5 to Sea-Tac was closed and we had to find a different route. But, as Scott pointed out, if we’d hadn’t gotten there later we might not have had Jose as our shuttle driver, and that would have been a huge loss for us. As soon as I saw Jose I recognized him as the driver I’d had before who had sung to us on the drive to the airport. (I posted a video of him on Facebook singing to us.) I reintroduced myself and asked Jose if he was going to sing to us again. Jose smiled and said he always sang. So we got to start our trip with the accompaniment of Jose’s wonderful singing.
We spent most of our time in California in and around Venice. One of our first adventures was a trip to Fishermen’s Village, and it was there that I met Cindy, who was manning the window at the creperie restaurant. Cindy was kind and helpful as I tried to navigate working with one hand – I had my grandbaby resting on one arm, and my purse dangling from my other arm, and Cindy could see before I did that I was going to need help putting the straw in little Linh’s lemonade. So she ripped off the paper from one end of the straw and then held the straw for me so I could pull it out. Team work!
After our visit to Fishermen’s Village, our son guided us up to the top of Marine Park, where there was a great viewpoint of LA in the valley below. On the short hike to the viewpoint I passed a young man with a great shirt that read: “NATIONAL SARCASTIC SOCIETY: LIKE WE NEED YOUR SUPPORT.” I stopped him to read the shirt again, and started laughing. “I have found my people!” I told him. He laughed with me, and I introduced myself as “Karen, of course” and he introduced himself as Diego.
The next day we spent time just taking in Venice. I got a mango juice at a juicery and we met Nancy, the owner of the shop, who is, like my daughter-in-law, of Viet heritage. My daughter-in-law asked Nancy if she spoke Vietnamese – she’s always looking for an opportunity to practice her parents’ first language – and pretty soon the two of them were carrying on a lively conversation – that was so cool!
While we waited in line, another woman, Iliana, got in line to order something. When I was handed my mango juice, I tipped the cup and a little juice splattered down my front. I didn’t noticed, but Iliano took care of me – she looked over and said, “Careful there.” Iliana saved me from making a bigger mess of myself. Like us, Iliana wanted to order from an actual person, rather than from the computer, but, when a couple of other people stepped in front of her to use the computer, I was worried that the juice workers weren’t going to be able to see her. My daughter-in-law picked up on my worries, and let the server know that Iliana was there. I told Iliana, “You took care of me, and now we’re taking care of you.” Iliana grinned. When we left we all wished each other a good day.
We passed the Washington Square Pizza, where a man was wearing a plackard for the pizza shop that read “KISS’N COSTS EXTRA $5” to attract people into the restaurant. He was a character with comic timing. When I asked for his name, he said just tag it “Washington Square Pizza.” He added that instead of making money for the restaurant he feared he might have actually lost them money, and he really hoped he wasn’t going to get fired on his first day.
We stopped at the Lavender and Truffles Dairy Free Ice Cream shop, where our son treated us to ice creams, and where we met the delightful owner, Alicia. The shop was a little oasis of calm and peace – a cool respite from the heat, and with soothing and beautiful artwork on the walls. It was a restful stop on a busy day.
Yesterday we traveled back to Sea-Tac. (I think right after we arrived at Sea-Tac, the airline grounded all planes for a few hours – we were blessed to leave LAX when we did.)
Waiting in line at LAX to get through security, there was a family ahead of us – a woman of about my age (she looked like the grandma version of Leslie Uggams), a younger man and woman, and two young girls. I took an instant liking to this family. The youngest one reminded me a little of my granddaughter – lively and observant and chatty. The older woman – maybe her grandma? – remarked to me that “she never stops talking.” I started laughing. At one point the little girl pulled on one of the security ropes and it snapped undone. Her family looked back nervously, and I said, “I think I can fix that for you.” I grabbed the free end of the rope and slid it into its track and it was back to itself. The grandma turned and smiled and thanked me. Getting through security can be a long process, and I voiced this to the grandma. I added, “And it can be kind of scary. But we’re going to be okay.” The grandma nodded her head once, empathically, and said, “We’re going to be just fine.” If I’d had doubts before, I didn’t after that head nod.
A man in his thirties a little ahead of me in the line, was soon next to me as the line wove back-and-forth through the security ropes. I noticed his shirt. It said “Altadena” on it. I felt my eyes tearing up. “Are you from Altadena?” I asked. He nodded and brought his hand to his chest in a gesture that thanked me for asking. He said he’d lost his home in the fire – the whole town was gone. I told him I’d heard from people who’d known Altadena that it had been a wonderful community. The man nodded, and said, “A secret.” As he moved passed me we smiled at each other one more time, and wished each other good travels.
The plane ride home was pretty quick and uneventful. I was sitting in the middle seat – Scott on my right by the window, and another man on my left. Once again, I had good seat companions. The man to my left was watching “Living on the Spectrum” on his i-phone. The man one row ahead of me and to the left was watching a sci-fi movie. The young woman one row ahead of me and to the right was watching “Creed.” I found my eyes flicking from one to the other, watching their shows with them. When we landed, I let them know what I’d been up to, and they all started laughing. “When you get bored, you just go to another show,” the man who’d been watching “Prometheus” (the prequel to “Alien”) told me. I thanked the man who’d been sitting to my left for being a good seat mate, and he smiled and said, “Likewise.”
And guess who was driving our shuttlebus when we got there?! Jose normally has Sundays off, but he’d been called in to work for someone who couldn’t make it in – so there was Jose! He grinned when he saw me, and I grinned back. A young man in his early thirties sat down in the seat opposite us, and I told him he was going to get to hear Jose sing. He was up for that! The young man, Keith, had the same energy as my sons, and we were soon in conversation about outdoor adventures, and the people I knew in his hometown of Port Townsend, and Scott and I learned that Keith had started a non-profit in Port Townsend to help in food production. How cool is that?!
Jose returned us safely to our car, singing all the way. And so our journey ended as it had begun – with the voice of Jose assuring us the world is good.
Peace. Be still. Listen. Do you hear the song of Love calling to your heart? Do you feel the cool breeze of kindness blowing over our humanity’s fevered skin? Do you see the kinship in the sun and moon, oceans and air we all share? Does the sweet fragrance of spring remind you of things more important than hate and fear and war? The call to Love is universal and irresistible. It will not be ignored.
My newsfeed was full of dark and scary things when I turned on my cellphone this morning and I felt myself slipping into the abyss. I knew I needed to get myself up to Bellingham for a therapy session with sunshine and fresh air and smiling people and pups.
As I was walking down the boardwalk towards Boulevard Park, a man on a bicycle approached from the opposite direction. As he went passed he smiled and pointed back the direction he’d come. “Two eagles in the second tree!” he said.
I knew exactly the tree he was talking about and thought maybe if I climbed up to the top of the knoll I’d be closer to the eagles. But when I got up there, I realized the eagles were on the other side of the tree, and I’d actually have a better view of them from down below.
When I got back down on the trail I could see the pair of eagles right above me. I pointed them out to a young woman named Lisa who stopped to enjoy them with me for a bit. Then three women – maybe of three different generations? – stopped to watch the eagles with me. I told them that I’d often seen one eagle up there, but I hadn’t seen two in the tree before. The younger woman said something to the other women and I recognized the Spanish word for “two” – “dos.” I nodded and smiled, “Yes! Dos!” And they all grinned with me. I thanked them for sharing that moment with me. They nodded and smiled. New friends!
When I got down to Boulevard Park, I went into the coffee shop to get an iced coffee. A woman in a pretty dress walked into the coffee shop. Her dress was cheery and colorful and it made me smile. I told the woman I loved what she was wearing and she smiled and thanked me. Then I took my iced coffee out to a picnic table to watch passersby and the boats on the bay.
Pretty soon a fluffy puppy walked by with his humans – a father and a young son. I asked Mario if I could meet his puppy and take a picture and he smiled and said sure. Little Yoshi is a Burmese Mountain dog, and he’s going to get much bigger before he’s done growing. He’s wonderfully photogenic – seemed to know exactly how to pose for me – and Mario told me that Yoshi has his own instagram account with thousands of followers. I am not surprised by this.
A woman stopped at my picnic table with her friend to ask me if I was Karen from Facebook. And this is how I came to at last meet my Facebook friend LaVonne in the person. LaVonne and I travel in a lot of the same FB circles – birding groups and The Seeing Bellingham group. It was very cool that she recognized me. LaVonne and her friend, Gina, sat and chatted with me for a while about birds and sign language (Gina is an expert in this) and the beauty of the day and Gina’s amazing purple hair.
From the picnic table, I could see the pair of eagles still sitting in their tree. It occurred to me that if I went back to my car by way of the road to Boulevard Park, I might actually get a great view of the eagles. So that’s what I did. By using the road, I was able to get pretty close to the raptors. It was cool.
Just as I was getting back to my car, I saw the woman in the pretty dress again – this time with her husband and a pup. I learned her name is Stephanie, and her husband’s name is Nick, and I learned their pup is named Zena. They all (including the pup) graciously agreed to pose for me.
This morning I went in search of magic – and I found it!
In 1961 – when I was just four – our country went through the tensions of the “Bay of Pigs.” I don’t remember anybody explaining to me what was going on, but I remember my mom and dad exchanging secret looks. I remember knowing the grown-ups were afraid.
Two and a half years later, our president was assassinated. I was in second grade. An announcement came over the school’s loud speakers that all students should return to their rooms. I was alone, walking in the hall – I think I’d just delivered a message to the office or something. I could feel the urgency in the voice over the intercom. We all were sent home from school. The next week was Thanksgiving, and I remember my dad and my Uncle Emery (retired Army officer) weeping. I didn’t often see my dad or my Uncle Emery weeping. It was a dark time.
Five years later, Civil Rights leader, Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., was assassinated and, a few months after that, JFK’s younger brother was assassinated. By that time, my dad had climbed Mount Kennedy with Bobby Kennedy and considered him a friend. The assassinations of MLK and Bobby Kennedy brought more darkness to our country.
In 1969, our country began drafting young men – most of them still teenagers – to fight in a war on the other side of the world. The draft ended in June 1973 – a year before I graduated from high school. I wonder how many of the young men I passed in the halls of my high school were ordered to Vietnam?
Conflict and war didn’t end with the Vietnam War. I don’t need to go through the list – you all know.
But when I was asking myself this morning to try to identify that time in my life that might be called “the good old days” – I realized that I’ve always lived in a world with tension and conflict, hate and killing. I was blessed to have a happy childhood with loving parents, inspiring teachers, and healthy adventures in the outdoors – but beyond my own personal circle, there was darkness.
My teaching major was history. As I studied world history, I remember having an epiphany that all the wars fought in the world have been connected – that we’re really still fighting the First Peloponnesian War. Greed for land, greed for spices, greed for oil, greed for money and power – all the wars are related – leaders sending young people off to kill and be killed so their leaders can get more of whatever it is they want.
The world has always had its heroes, too – the humble unknown people who go about quietly doing the right thing, sharing the good they have, creating beauty, treating others with kindness and compassion. I meet these people every day on my walks and trips to the store – heroic people who don’t even know they’re heroic – people who do the right thing because they can’t NOT do the right thing.
And I see the progress towards liberty and love that humanity continues to make. Nothing can stop the progress. Once we’ve moved forward, it’s impossible to go back.
We live in challenging times – some might say “unprecedented” – but that in itself gives me hope. The more blatant and brazen evil becomes – the more it exposes itself for what it is – the easier it will be to see it and overcome it. With love. With the courage of progress. With the quiet heroism of kindness. Nothing can stop progress. Nothing can stop the power of Love.
I’m one of those people who lies awake at night worrying about stuff I said the day before. I worry about hurting people’s feelings unintentionally; I worry about people thinking I was serious when i was just having fun; I worry about accidentally offending people.
Last night I worried about something I’d said in fun to a bank teller earlier in the day. I’d been standing in line for ten or 15 minutes while the tellers worked with two other individuals ahead of me who had complicated transactions. I was the only one in line for most of that time. Then a woman with a crutch came in and stood behind me and let me know that she was there because it appeared someone had gained access to her account. This was serious. So when a teller opened up another line – one with a chair for someone to sit down on – I told the woman behind me to go ahead – her business was more serious than mine. She thanked me and took the seat in front of the teller.
I waited. I waited some more. A couple more people came in behind me. And now both the other tellers finished their business with the previous customers. I was excited. I was almost there!
Then one of the tellers grabbed her purse and left (I didn’t blame her – she probably was finally going to get lunch). So now I waited for the other teller to signal me. And I waited. And finally I said, laughing, “Is it just me? That other teller took one look at me and said, ‘I’m out of here!'” The teller smiled and said she was just clearing a space for me and I could come up now.
She was very gracious. I learned that the man ahead of me had brought in 7,000 pennies to be turned into $70 cash and that it had taken some time to sort all that out. I was impressed by the teller’s patience and composure. My transaction went quickly and I left.
But as I was driving home I started worrying. Had the teller realized I’d just been having fun when I asked, “Is it just me?” Had I come across as – oh, the horror! – a “Karen”?
I worried. I worried some more. I worried much longer than I’d waited in that line at the bank.
I had a break from my worrying when Clara Kitty nestled in beside me for some cuddles. I realized that if I was spending time worrying I wouldn’t be focused on the love I could give right then to Clara. So I scratched her behind the ears and she licked my hand and for a little while I just stayed in the moment.
But when I went to bed I started worrying again.
This morning I decided to bring a home-made card to the teller, telling her how much I appreciated her kindness and patience yesterday. I wasn’t sure how this was going to work, exactly. I wasn’t sure if she’d even be at the bank, and, if she was at the bank, I wasn’t sure how I was going to manage to get to her counter. But I trusted that Love would sort all that out for me.
When I got to the bank I saw she was there! And the woman ahead of me in line appeared to be waiting for the OTHER teller because she stepped aside and waved me forward when the teller I wanted to see became available. How cool was that?!
I asked the teller her name – she said “Natasha” – and I told her I’d been impressed by how patient she was yesterday and how gracious, and I wanted to give her this card to thank her. I told her I hoped she knew I was having fun yesterday – I was worried that she’d thought I was serious. She started laughing and said she totally knew I was joking and she’d been grateful that I’d had a sense of humor about it all and wasn’t cranky like another customer might have been.
I felt a huge weight of worry lift from me! She had a sense of humor!!
I left the bank feeling like I was floating on Love. Empowered by Love. Powered by Love. I felt fearless and safe and impervious to bad stuff. I felt Love with me.
She was trying to understand the unfathomable – trying to find a reason and cause for the hate and insanity the greed and racism, willful ignorance and inanity. And finally she realized she was looking at it upside-down: Trying to find a source for a story that’s not true is like trying to find the reason fairies exist or hobbits live in her shoe; It’s like asking why Road Runner and Wiley Coyote are always in a fight; It’s like trying to find the source for darkness instead of turning on a light. – Karen Molenaar Terrell
(I stumbled upon this old post from 2016 and thought it would work well in 2025, too.)
About once a week I walk into town to buy a hummus roasted veggie sandwich and to see my friend, Frank, who works at the sandwich place. Frank is gay. We’ve never talked about his gayness or my not-gayness or anyone’s whatever-ness in conversation – I mean – it’s not like people usually approach a new friend, shake hands, and introduce themselves by their labels – “Hi, I’m Karen and I’m a progressive bleeding heart liberal heterosexual female Christian Scientist of mostly European ancestry (although there might be some Basque Reptile Alien in there, too) – and how about you? What are your labels?” – but, yeah, Frank is gay. This week when Frank asked me how I was, I gave the usual, “I’m good. And how about you?” And he gave the usual, “I’m good.” But this time something made me stop and really look at Frank. And I asked, “Frank, how are you really?” Frank said it had been a rough week.
He said he’d been in a bar earlier in the week, and he’d heard people at the next table over saying – in deliberately loud voices so Frank could hear – “Yeah. Those people in Florida deserved it.” Frank had tried to remain civil to them – he and the bar-tender had had their own conversation – loud enough to be heard – about the terribleness of the tragedy. And the people at the next table spewed out some more hatred. And Frank wondered about them: Hadn’t they ever been targeted for being different in some way? Didn’t they know what that felt like?
I started tearing up. “Frank, where does that hate come from? I don’t understand it.” Frank shook his head sadly, and said he thought it came from ignorance – from people being afraid of what they don’t know. He said he leaves those people in the hands of the Lord – and he didn’t mean that in a vengeful way – but in a “God will help them” way.
I told Frank that I was with him. I told him that he wasn’t alone. And he thanked me and gave me a hug.
Later on I was thinking about what Frank had said – his wondering if those people had ever been targeted for being different – and it made me remember a time, years ago, when I’d been watching a local “town meeting” on television and I’d heard someone say that “All Christian Scientists should be lined up against a wall and shot.” It had been strange and disturbing to hear someone who didn’t know me wish me dead. It stuck with me. I learned something from that.
Anyone could become a target – hatred is a form of insanity, really, and it doesn’t have to make sense – maybe tomorrow it will be stubby people, or extra tall people, or people with green eyes, or left-handed people, who will become the targets.
I think when we take the time to get to know each other – to try to understand each other without judgment or condemnation – to listen to each other – when we take the time to get rid of our own ignorance – we are doing a lot to make the world a better place. It’s been said so many times, but I think it’s true: Love really IS the answer.
My trip to visit my son, his wife, and my granddaughter only lasted three days, but I was living in a whole ‘nother world inside of those three days. I came back restored.
Because I wanted to travel light and didn’t want to have to worry about carry-on baggage or trying to get all my electronics out of my backpack when I went through security, I didn’t bring my laptop or ebook. I didn’t listen to news, didn’t watch television, and, other than posting some quick pics from my cellphone, I pretty much stayed off of social media.
It was AWESOME!
The son and his family live in Venice, California, and we took long walks together over the canals and down to the beach, past vibrant murals and artsy boutiques. My granddaughter, little Linh, pointed out a white egret stepping along the edge of the canal and we enjoyed watching him as he foraged for lunch. And then Rigby the pup came up to us with a big smile and a wagging tail for a pet on the head.
We walked to the Erewhon Market and were greeted with a friendly smile at the door by Russ, who told me that the market has a lot of people named Russ there. “It’s like a Russ magnet,” I said. And he laughed and agreed.
On my last morning in Venice, Christina and Linh brought me with them to the Linnie Canal Park for a music program for toddlers. The four young women who led the program sang with the children, brought out instruments for them to play, and led them in fun dances. Music and dance and toddlers laughing together! That, my friends, is healing.
My son drove me to the airport, parked, and walked me in. I saw a couple of security guards standing at the bottom of an escalator and asked them where I needed to go. They smiled at me, and one of them asked me if I had any baggage to check (nope!) and asked to see my boarding pass on my phone. Then he told me I could just go right up the escalator, turn right, and get in the general security check line. I told him I knew there’d be people to help me at the airport, and thanked him. I asked him his name and he said “Alex” and then he asked me my name and I said, “Karen, of course.” He started laughing, and wished me a good flight.
My son and I hugged good bye at the bottom of the escalator and I made my way to the security line. I watched to see what the people ahead of me were doing as they got to the security conveyer belt. I took two bins and, trying to look like a I fly on planes every week, sorted my backpack and purse and jacket in the bins. I turned to the man behind me and asked, “Do I look like I know what I’m doing?” and he grinned and said I did. “I’m just copying all the people in front of me,” I confessed, and he laughed and said that’s what we ALL were doing.
When I got up to the security lady – a woman of about my age who’d been using a curt voice with the people in front of me – I pointed to my bins and asked her, “How’d I do?” She put her curt voice aside and smiled and told me it looked like I’d done a good job.
I was feeling hungry and went in search of food. I stopped at the Wahoo’s to order a quesadilla. The woman in front of me in line must have thought she was taking longer than she should because she turned around and apologized. Including the cashier, I said, “No! You’re both doing a great job!” And they smiled at me.
I ordered my quesadilla and waited near the pick-up counter. The cashier called out the number of the woman who’d been ahead of me, but I could tell she hadn’t heard it, so I yelled, “Forty-seven!” – which she heard. The cashier thanked me for yelling out her number, and I grinned and told him I was using my teacher voice.
When I boarded the plane I found there was an empty seat between my window seat and the man sitting in the aisle seat. I asked him, hopefully, if the middle seat had been empty when he’d reserved his seat, and he made a sad face and said no. “Dang,” I said, “Well, maybe it will end up being someone really lovely.”
Our seat partner soon joined us, and we all settled in for our flight. As our plane rolled down the runway, I could see a beautiful sunset blossoming on the horizon. I tried to take a picture, but then our plane turned and… I looked at the young man sitting in the middle seat and said, “The sunset’s amazing, but…”
He smiled in understanding, and finished my sentence for me, “It’s on the wrong side of the plane.”
Soon Eelco and I had introduced ourselves to each other and were in conversation. I learned he’s Dutch – so I, of course, told him my dad’s family had come from de Nederlands, and told him my maiden name was “Molenaar” – which he recognized as totally Dutch. We talked about skiing – he was going to visit a Dutch cousin in Montana to go skiing – and I told him my dad had been, among other things, a ski instructor. Then we talked about traveling – because if you’re a Dutch downhill skier you’re going to need to leave your country to do that. And we talked about languages, jobs, education, family (ahem, I might have mentioned Dad is in Wikipedia for mountaineering), traveling, adventures. I learned he was the same age as my son and we talked about how different the world was when I was born compared to when he and my son were born.
I dozed off for a bit then, and woke to find we were close to landing.
This is when the man on the other side of Eelco told him that I’d been hoping the middle seat would be open. “But,” I added, “I did say that maybe we’d get a lovely person in the middle.” And Brett, the man in the aisle seat, nodded in agreement that I had indeed said that. Now Eelco and Brett got in conversation and learned that they’d both been vendors at the Natural Products Expo West this week! Brett had been there to vend the cardboard containers his company sells; and Eelco had been there to show the glass containers his company sells. They might have even passed each other while they were there!
It is a small world, my friends.
My husband had parked the car and was waiting for me in the baggage claim area. It was so good to see him again! I had all kinds of stories I wanted to share with him about our grandbaby’s hugs, and the people I met on my trip, and the things I saw.
We live in a beautiful world full of new friends just waiting to be met, of laughing toddlers, and people who want to help us on our journeys.
I’m going to hang on to that as I move into the future.
Scott drops me off at SeaTac. I follow a family with young children – they look like they know what they’re doing. Somehow I end up in front of them in the security check line. I turn around and tell them I was following them because it looked like they knew where to go and they started laughing. No, they tell me, they don’t know what they’re doing. I show them my passport, clutched tightly in my hand, and tell them I’m constantly checking to make sure I have it with me. The mom starts laughing and says she’s checking even as she’s holding it in her hand.
I sit next to a blond woman with a friendly smile, all dressed in pink. My instincts tell me she’ll be fun to chat with. And she is! I learn she’s a manager for Claire’s going to LA for training and we talk about traveling and trips we’ve taken.
I need to stretch my legs and go into the waiting area next to mine. I see an amazing sunrise through the window and go over to take a photo. I apologize to the young man sitting near me for getting in his space and he smiles and says it’s no problem and it is a nice sunrise. I ask him where he’s flying and he says Hawaii. A couple sitting across from him asks me where I’m going and I tell them Los Angeles. “La La Land,” the man says and I tell him I’m going to see my grandbaby. The couple get big smiles and nod their heads in the universal understanding of grandparents for grandparents.
The woman in front of me as we go up the ramp to board the plane starts singing, “I’m leaving on a jet plane…” and I finish for her, “…don’t know when I’ll be back again.” She turns around with a big grin on her face and says, “Exactly!” I follow her and her husband down the aisle and learn they are my seat mates! Cosmic!
As we fly south, we chat and I learn they’re flying to Chile and from there to other places and will be gone for a month. Of course, not long into our conversation I happen to mention my dad is in Wikipedia for mountain climbing and Cathy, who has an app that lets her connect to the internet, looks him up. We talk about weddings and children, trips we’ve taken, and places we’ve lived. When the plane lands I tell her I’m so glad I got her for a seat mate because you never know who you’re going to end up with and she nods and starts laughing.
I wave to the security guard as I head for baggage claim and he smiles and waves back. And there’s my son waiting for me! So good to be with him again!
Christina and little Linh join us at the Gratitude Cafe for lunch. Linh is just waking up from a nap, and it takes a while before she notices me and then she gets a big grin on her face. Oh joy!
Later Christina gives me a tour of Venice Beach. Little Linh is running ahead of us and, literally, runs into a woman with a baby stroller. And this is how we meet Raven and her beautiful little two month-old baby. Her baby, Ariana, was born prematurely – at just 30 weeks- and she’s really tiny – the big pink bow on her head is almost as big as she is. But Raven tells us that she’s more than doubled in size since she was born – she weighed two pounds at birth and now weighs five!
Raven is so fun – animated and full of love – and I ask her if I can take her picture. She laughs and poses for me while I snap my camera.
It’s only day one, and look how many cool new friends I’ve made!
Adventures of the Madcap Christian Scientist 