We hadn’t spoken, sitting side by side, only cursory nod, awkward smile. In his green t-shirt, khaki shorts, he’s plugged into the flight’s movie, and I am gazing out at cloud, blue, space above it all. And I doubt I would have said anything, but he did, unexpectedly.
“Do you mind if I eat this?”
He’s holding a Snickers chocolate bar in his hand, but I am confused at his asking, scan his face, catch a glimpse of gentle green eyes behind a mop of hair.
“Just in case, you know.” He shrugs, smiles. “Some people have an allergy to the nuts, and just to be sure, you know.”
And I find words that sound too soft by dull roar of propellers and sonic compulsion. “Very sensitive of you to ask. By all means….”
He rips open wrapper, takes a bite.
And I turn back to window and thoughts of seeing the world through different eyes.
Father, today cause me to slow, be sensitive to those whom I interact, honor those near. Today how might I see the world around me through different eyes?
Photo: Paris on the first day of summer
