Going Home or Going Away?

I’m not claustrophobic, per se, but the tightness of economy seats in an airplane makes me feel uneasy. However, whenever I have to fly (at least on shorter trips, under about 3 hours), something works to pass the time and distract me from the air-specific claustrophobia: striking up a conversation. I’m not dumb, though. If someone has headphones on, or an eye covering and a pillow situated for a nap, I will manage with whatever I can watch or listen to on my phone if the connection works decently. But if someone has their eyes open and seems friendly and willing enough…

“Going home or going away?”

This question has never failed me. It requires no extraneous thinking, and it’ll reveal how open people are to share and what about. If they’re going home, talks of their family might come up. If they’re going away, whatever fun vacation or sad funeral they’re going to may come up. More than might or may, it will. I can’t recall a time someone ignored my question or got more tense by the start of a conversation from a stranger (again, at least if they were headphone-free).

This time was no different. I sat in the window seat, and the middle seat actually never got filled. That’s my ideal scenario, not being elbow buddies with anyone in an already-sardine-like situation. But the aisle seat pretty quickly got filled by a woman about my age. In your mid-30s, it’s harder to tell if someone is 29 or 41, but she’s in the ballpark. Age never came up. It never does.

She sat down with a somewhat anxious look on her face, but she wasn’t unhappy. In fact, she noticed me and smiled with a quick “hi, can I sit here? It’s getting full in here.”

“Oh, of course! Squeeze in,” I said, trying to appear normal and friendly.

As people shoved overpacked bags overhead, clicked on their seatbelts, and scrolled their phones during the typical presentation of emergency exits, I started my tried-and-true time-spender: “Going home or going away?”

“Oh, going away!” she told me.

“Me too! I’m off to see my sister.”

“I’m actually seeing family too, but it’s because my grandma doesn’t seem to have much time. She stopped eating and drinking yesterday. I’m hoping to make it in time to see her, hear her voice, before she goes.”

“Gosh… I am sorry… may I ask your name?”

“Lori.”

“Well, Lori, I’m Clara, and I hope you make it in time too. Want to tell me about her?”

I know… I’m super sweet to ask her that. But honestly, I partially want her to help pass the time of this flight. It’s only 2 hours and change, but if the whole time can be spent this way, it’ll feel like a half hour. It’s not totally selfless of me.

“I’d love to. But…”

“What is it?” I urged.

“...I just don’t want to talk your ear off. You sure you want to hear me blab?”

“If you knew me, you’d know it’s one of my favorite things!”

“Ha! Okay then. Well, this trip will be nice, I’m sure, if I make it in time, but I’m a little stressed because my mom and her siblings have to deal with my grandma’s things - her home, her collections of snowglobes and antiques, and paperwork… which also means my siblings and I will have to help too. I’m not complaining. It’s just… my grandma has lived in this home for almost 50 years. She’s 83.”

“So tons of stuff to sort through,” I added.

“Tons. I’m sure it’ll be okay. I do love her house though. She always has tins of candies, and she has this dog that somehow seems as old as her. He’s probably legit 20 years old… he’s this tiny, stinky little thing, but we love him. Until about 2 years ago, she would bake and volunteer and somehow was busier than me some days. But when she got sick, she got really sick. Practically overnight, she became confined to her home, and we thought she wouldn’t make it this long. My mom moved nearby to her to help out a lot. I don’t see my mom as much now, but I know she made the right choice to move closer. My dad’s been out of my life for a decade, so it was overdue I suppose. And um… gosh… did I tell you I like to blab?”

“Pssh, Lori, you’re good. Trust me. I truly am fascinated learning about you! I relate in a small way living states away from my sister. But we talk daily so we’re pretty much best friends.”

“I’m pretty close with my siblings. I don’t know about besties, but we get along.”

Lori went on to tell me about memories of staying the weekend, and even some long portions of summer, with her grandma, especially around the time of her parents' divorce. I was pleased someone was as transparent as me - divulging info only the closest of friends would share. Many people play it close to the vest, but she aired out so much after I gave her permission, so to speak.

I learned she has four siblings, three of which are brothers. We both have just one sister, only my sister is my only sibling.

I actually didn’t get to share much about my trip, but I had no qualms about it. She looked me in the eyes and reminded me of my own life in many ways.

The intercom temporarily disrupted our flow with please have a seat with seatbelts fastened. We still have an hour or so left, but we have some turbulence coming so we need to make sure everyone is settled in their seats until we turn off the seatbelt light again.

“I used to be pretty nervous about turbulence,” Lori told me.

“I still sort of am…” I said with a chuckle.

Honestly though, the turbulence wasn’t that bad. Maybe it was due to having a new friend to chat with.

“My grandpa has been gone a long time. About a decade,” Lori continued without missing a beat. “Grandma recovered from the grief pretty well, but part of her heart changed forever.”

I made a mental note that her parents divorced around the time her grandpa died, and I wondered if there was a connection. I decided not to ask.

I teared up about now, hearing her speak of her grandparents. It made me think of my grandparents who were both still alive - on my mom’s side, anyway. My dad’s mom lives far away and we aren’t as close. But I see her every other year at least. His dad’s been gone a while too, closer to twenty years.

Lori added, “I’m just so glad she’ll get to see her husband again soon.”

As she choked up, swallowing back her sadness and wiping a falling tear, I shared that imagining losing my husband would be the worst pain ever. I realized over an hour into our conversation that Lori isn’t married, but she thinks her boyfriend of 4 years may propose by Christmas. 

“Pretzels?” the flight attendant asked.

We both accepted. Lori requested a cranberry juice and I requested a ginger ale. We both ate our eight stale pretzels as we continued to talk. The plane was already descending slowly but we kept on with our pace as if we weren’t departing from each other soon.

When the plane actually touched ground again, we both jolted as if exiting a trance and laughed at how silly we must’ve looked. 

“Lori, thank you for passing the time and sharing so much with me. Wanna connect on socials or something?”

“I could connect on Instagram! I can message you there.”

“Definitely! I want to hear about your visit, whether you make it in time or not. But I really hope you do. It's @claratiara."

As we stood up to stretch our legs waiting for what felt like 20 minutes to get our baggage and exit the plane, Lori said “I'll add you on Insta really quick.”

After adding her back, we quickly grabbed the bags above us and marched slowly through to our exit. Without fail, it doesn't matter how much everyone wants to get off. It always seems to be a snail's pace.

“Lori…” 

“Yeah, Clara?” 

“You'll make it in time.” 

She simply smiled.

What started as a way to pass the time ended by making a friend, and truly being touched by my own memories brought on by Lori’s.