The Birthing Place of Beauty
On our early morning flight, the attendant offered me a drink, and with every intense ounce of me I asked for coffee. I may have grunted it, because she and the woman on my left bent their bodies in a knee-slapping laugh. I laughed, too, and then had to explain that I am a decade tired in the mother-way. I said, “I have four sons!”
“Oh!” the woman sitting there said, “I have three sons.” And there it was, the look we gave each other, an immediate bond. She is a woman from Joplin, Missouri, a place wiped out in 2011 by an EF5 tornado. I asked her how recovery was going, and she spoke of her dearest friends, how a light has gone out from their eyes. I saw the heartbreak as she wondered if she would ever see the light again.