A Woman in the Airport
I noticed her while waiting for my flight home. A small woman pushing a wheelchair piled with luggage, leaning into the handles as she slowly made her way around the terminal.
She reminded me of Skipper, a small disabled boy I knew in grade school, who always carried himself with a kind of serene dignity and grace.
Airports are full of rushing people and loud announcements, but she moved through it all at her own pace, as if the noise belonged to another world. Watching her, I was reminded that every person we pass carries a private history we cannot see. Wounds, struggles, hopes, and quiet determination.
Everyone is carrying something.
