Last week I flew home to Seattle from a family reunion in Utah with my children.  As we were seated for the flight, I was startled to hear the wailing of a 10 year old girl as she boarded the plane.  Accompanied by a flight attendant, it was clear this child wanted nothing to do with Delta flight 1169.  

"No!  No!  I don't want to go!  I don't want to goooooo!"  

The words were garbled between sobs and hyperventilating gasps, but the message was clear.  She didn't want to be on that plane.  

She was traveling alone, and the male attendant, though well intentioned, was not helping as he handed her headphones and Delta pillows and blankets.  "It will be fine!" he kept saying, more to reassure himself than her.  

I had three of my own to look after, but they were lost in a world of Nickelodian  magazines and M&Ms - so I approached the scene and offered to sit by the girl.  The attendant looked more than a bit relieved.  I sat down, strapped in, and started asking questions in a low voice.  Where are you going?   Where have you been?  Are you afraid to fly?  Do you not want to leave?  Do you wish you could stay?   Between gasps for air, she began to answer my questions at least intelligibly enough for me to figure out that her parents were divorced, and she had been visiting her dad and siblings for a month.  She was headed back to Mom's house where she lived.  She was sad to leave her father - not upset to be with mom, just sad to leave dad.  Interestingly enough, her hysterics did not stop until I said, "That stinks.  It's just not fair."  

Silence.

I felt my own daughter touch me on the sleeve as she offered up her Nickelodian magazine to the cause.  I'm ever grateful for her generosity, as she is the same age as my new flight companion and could have easily been irritated that I'd left my seat next to her to sit by a stranger.  I asked the child if she knew who Spongebob was, and she slowly accepted the magazine.  The crying ceased, but the emotion was still thick.  

Once we took off and destiny was clearly irreversible, I introduced myself.  I told her a little bit about my trip, my kids, and my job, and how I've had a lot of experience talking to people who have experienced divorce.  I shared with her that I thought it was pretty crummy that she had to be hurting like this when she's done nothing wrong.   It wasn't long before we were playing Slap Jack with her Barbie playing cards and laughing it up - I swear she cheats.  I politely offered her some of my goodies, but she refused, and I commended her for refusing.  I was, after all, a stranger - 

As the plane landed, I felt I had made a new friend.  I asked her if every flight begins this way for her - turns out it is, when she leaves Dad.  

"Every time I fly they give me these headphones to get me to stop crying.  I must have about 500 by now."   The point being, we all need to be heard, and understood.  Validation is the magic key to intimacy when there's a problem - throwing solutions at one who suffers is far less effective than simply saying, "that makes sense."  

The plane came to a stop, and she told me she had to be the last one off the plane.  She watched for my reaction, so I glanced back at my own kids and mouthed for them to wait.  We sat in silence, as the plane unloaded.   When it was nearly empty I shook her hand and wished her well.  That's the last I'll ever see of her, I'm sure.

But, I will continue to see her in all of the others like her.  And I will remember her as I tuck my own in at night, so humbled to be their mom, so grateful for what I have.