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A Pre-Covid Travel Vignette
I noticed the young mother because she was alone and in charge of three beautiful children. The oldest, a girl, looked to be only 6 or 7 years old. The middle one, a boy, was probably around 4. And in her arms she carried the third child, an infant not quite one year of age. We were waiting at the same airport gate and appeared to be sharing a flight to the west coast. I always feel sympathetic toward young women traveling alone with small children. For my part, air travel increasingly seems like something conjured up from the fiery abyss and a young mother with small children in an air travel environment is always under stress.
A large number of the passengers were crowding around the gate even though boarding had not yet started. For whatever reason, people who will be boarding late in the process often have a tendency to crowd around the gate. I’m not sure what accounts for that, but it’s probably the same thing that motivates the very last people who ordered at Starbucks to barge their way up to the counter where the drinks are being delivered and wait for their drink from there, in front of everyone who ordered before them.
At any rate, the young mother, with her three kids in tow, was soon surrounded by, and in close quarters with, a crowd of anxious passengers milling about. It was at this point that her babe-in-arms started to cry. The baby was coughing and slightly gagging and very red-faced from the crying. The anxious mother was trying to extricate herself from the crowd while simultaneously attempting to keep her other children close beside her. She eased her way over to a nearby trashcan at which point the baby’s gagging became more acute. Alarmed, the young mother kind of turned her baby’s face toward the trash can just in time for the baby to eject the contents of his stomach all over the outside of the can.
You won’t be surprised to learn that the baby’s vomit acted as a kind of magical force field, with all of the crowding travelers suddenly less interested in milling about the young mother and her kids.
It was just then, as the perimeter around the young woman began to grow, that I noticed her tears. Quietly, without hysterics or sobbing, the tears were suddenly flowing in a steady, silent stream. She had taken some tissues out of her pack and was trying desperately to clean off the exterior of the trashcan with one hand while holding her crying baby with the other. She was doing this while anxiously trying to keep an eye on her other two children.
By now, the crowd was giving her a very wide berth and no one wanted to go anywhere near the trashcan. As the empty space around her continued to grow, the young woman’s tears continued to flow and she seemed on the verge of being overwhelmed by her predicament.
And it was then, just in the nick of time, that the random grandmas came to her rescue. I say they were grandmothers but I don’t really know. They were the right age for being grandmothers and they all acted like they knew a thing or two about mothers and children.
Out of the blue, and in the midst of her tears, the young woman and her children were descended upon by 3 older women brandishing huge smiles and plastic containers full of disinfectant wipes. They surrounded the young family and when, presently, one of them noticed the flowing tears, they put their arms around her and assured her that things were going to be ok.
Two of the grandmas took charge of cleaning up the baby’s aromatic deposit while the third woman ushered the mother and her children up to the front of the line. The tears were still a steady flow but there was a smile on the young woman’s face and an unnecessary series of apologies on her lips.
We travel through airports and on planes and, for my part at least, I don’t consider the degree to which I may be in company with people who are carrying heavy burdens or are weighed down by loneliness.
And though you never know what’s really going on in a stranger’s life, it’s comforting and gratifying to know that there’s a sturdy platoon of grandmas that stands ready to do battle in the cause of tenderness and compassion. And they always seem to come armed with an ample supply of disinfectant wipes.
Published in General
What a beautifully written story, filled with kindness and awareness. The only words you need are How can I help? As you say, some needs are obvious and the grandmas, and moms with no children with them, always have extra wipes and pocket tissues handy. We expect a surprise. My standard comments of comfort in such an event are “it doesn’t matter; your baby is fine; your children are fine; you’ll never see these people again.”
If the need isn’t obvious, it never hurts to just be gracious and kind as you go about your day. You never know what might be enough to help that day. I’ve been in the receiving end more than once and been so grateful and too overwhelmed to show gratitude. I really miss the chance to make eye contact and smile with airport people – this mask business is dehumanizing. As we pack to fly tomorrow- grandma and grandpa on the go for New Years.
Beautiful story. Grandmas comfort more than children.
re crowding at gate, before the days of supersized carryons, people didn’t need to beat everyone to the overheads, or worse, beat the transition from carryons to forced gate checks. I saw a couple boarding in Charlotte for Melbourne, AU, forced to check their carryon, undoubtedly full of 24 hrs of survival gear. The airline told them it must be checked to final destination. Having made the long flight to Brisbane via Auckland (the destination that trip), I know that must have been an arduous trip for them.
Welcome to Ricochet. You’ve made a fine start.
A beautiful story @keithlowery…well-written and heartwarming.
I’m having a bit of a rough morning, and your story had me in tears remembering the kindnesses that were shown me when my children were small. I wish people knew that it’s the kind acts that linger in memory and not the harsh words.
There are strangers whose kind acts I will never, ever forget, and whom I will remember in my prayers til the day I die.
I love this comment. Thanks for writing.
What a lovely story, with enough detail to draw me in and share in the beauty of reaching out and helping. Thank you.
I’ve been on both sides of this event. It is a wonderful affirmation of the kindness that exists in the world. There are many people out there who can use a helping hand, and fortunately, there are also lots of willing hands. Good job telling this story!
Not really the same thing, but some time ago in Phoenix I was taking the city bus home from grocery shopping. Sometime before I got on, a child had… ralphed… a bit near the back, but it hadn’t been brought to the driver’s attention.
Once noticed, apparently the official policy was that it had to be cleaned up before the bus could continue on. The driver had some paper towels, but nothing to put them in after use. I had double-plastic-bagged my groceries, so I separated some of the extra bags – making sure they didn’t have holes at the bottom! – and handed them over. She was very appreciative.
I’ve been smiling all day because of this post.
Reminded of the young father at the mall who held son #3 while I corralled my three other children. Son #3 proceeded to thank him for the kindness by barfing all over him – then himself and me.
And the Trader Joe’s workers who grabbed son #2 out of a sea of broken glass and spilled wine after he’d knocked over a case, then whisked pregnant me and son #2 through checkout and to the car and got nothing but a kiss on the cheek in thanks
I repaid those kindness by helping “the ***tting toddler” (the story is legend). By the time I came upon him in the bathroom at a Fourth of July party in Wyoming, my hand to God, it was in his cowboy boots.
Babies, drunks and strangers. The world is better thanks to them.
Could that same scene happen today?
Yes.
Great story. I’ve long said that there’s much more good in the world than bad, the bad just makes the headlines. This casual kindness is rampant around the world. It’s a good reminder of who we are, who we really should be, and that we are all connected at some level of common human experience.
Even Rob Long.
“Even Rob Long”. Made me laugh.