Sign in the Sky

Signs in the Sky

One hour into an uneventful flight from Phoenix, Arizona, to Sacramento, California, an elderly man sat hunched-over with his face buried in a large, thick book. Periodically he would glance at his seatmate, like a physician might do when assessing a new patient.

The young man seated next to him in 22A, slept like the dead.

As the plane shuddered, the young man stirred and looked around with glazed eyes reorienting himself to the reality of modern air travel.

“In the old days, they’d give you little bags of roasted peanuts.“ The older man’s jovial voice interrupted the drone of the jet engines. “And they were free, too.” An impish smile slowly crossed his round face. He looked like a small child who had just shared a secret.

Stiff from sitting in an uncomfortable economy seat, Nelson Anders blinked rapidly, annoyed that his privacy was interrupted. “Yes, I know.” He licked his dry lips and added, “These days you don’t get anything for free.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that young man. Kindness is still free.” His smile grew wider.

Without uttering a word, Nelson lazily nodded in agreement hoping the man would allow him the quiet space he craved.

“Do you live in Sacramento? Or is this trip a vacation?”

“No. I live in Chicago. And this trip isn’t a vacation—at all.” He immediately regretted including the final two words in his reply.

“Oh? Must be business then, eh?”

Through half-shut eyes, Nelson deftly glanced at his watch. He instantly recalled last Tuesday’s telephone call from his father’s attorney—he was adamant that Nelson was to be punctual for their appointment. The attorney explained there were vital business matters involving his father’s estate, especially his will, which required Nelson’s presence to finalize.

“Yeah, I’m afraid it’s business—“

“What business are you in? I was in real estate before I retired. Good field, especially in California. Have you been here before?”

“I used to live here, before I went to college.“

“Really, where did you live? Where did you go to college?” The elderly man tried to twist his wide body to face his seatmate more squarely. Not an easy task for a portly man sitting in a narrow seat.

“I grew up near Lone Pine Lake before I went to college—in Chicago.” Anticipating the obvious next question he quickly added, “Information technology. I’m a computer geek.”

“That’s up in the foothills, right? I’m not too familiar with that area. I mostly worked in the Central Valley.” The old man pressed-on, anxious for a conversation after being quiet for so long. “Are you here for a convention?”

“No. I’ve got to meet with my father’s attorney to complete some papers, settle the will. That kind of business.” The emphasis on the word that was meant to chill the conversation.

Embarrassed, the old man sat back in his seat, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to pry, I didn’t know.” His words came out in a steady stream, like they were glued together. An awkward silence fell between them.

Nelson turned away and stared into the fading half-light of sunset as the flickering lights below ushered in the end of day. He wondered why complete strangers on long flights found it so easy to talk about anything and everything. Was it the high probability they’d never see one another again? Was it the anonymity of the exchanges? Who could prove if anything shared was true or not?

“Were you close?” The old man’s words sounded soft, caring, but they did put an end to the brief tranquility. “I mean you and your dad?”

Nelson jerked around to face the old man. “Why would you ask me such a question? What makes you think I wasn’t close with my father?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just that, I don’t know—he lived here, and you were in Chicago, I thought maybe—“

“Everything was fine between us.” It was a bitter declaration. “I think I’ll just enjoy the rest of the flight now, okay?” He instantly recognized the hollowness of his untruthful denial.

“Yes, of course, certainly. I’m sorry for your loss.” Totally dismissed, the old man sat back and picked up his book.

After a deep sigh, Nelson pursed his lips. He regretted snapping at the old man. But it was too late. He removed his glasses and gently rubbed the indentations on the bridge of his nose. Pushing back into his seat, he put his glasses on and shut his eyes wishing he could disappear. Vanishing had always been one of his favorite wishes.

Without warning, the plane dropped a few hundred feet causing many of the passengers to scream. For a moment, Nelson thought he’d get his wish. He wondered if the atmospheric anomaly was a sign—then immediately recalled his domineering father chastising him about such foolish things.

His father took perverse pleasure when reprimanding his son, “You should place your trust in facts, not childish, make-believe signs.”

The noise level around him gradually increased as the flight crew walked the aisle collecting cups and glasses from the passengers. People busied themselves preparing for landing, concluding their conversations, restoring laptops and folders. The only thing Nelson could think about was meeting a strange attorney to discuss the estate of his recently deceased father.

Nelson felt the plane slowly begin to turn in preparation for descent. The landing gear whined and groaned from below. A rush of cold recycled air hissed through the silver nozzles overhead. The cabin lights blinked as the co-pilot dryly read the usual instructions for landing.

He wasn’t sure what the attorney had in store for him, but he hoped whatever it was wouldn’t take more than a week—he had to get back to work. The knot in his stomach began to get tighter as he contemplated this unwanted interruption to his well-organized life.

Tilting his head ever so slightly, Nelson glanced at the old man and noticed the diagrams printed on the pages of his open book. He squinted to make sure he was clear about what was on the pages. When he was convinced, he bit the inside of his lip and diverted his gaze—but he was consumed with curiosity.

“Is that braille your reading about?” Nelson asked.

The old man looked up and turned to face Nelson. “Yes. My wife is losing her eyesight. She may go blind.” His voice was more measured as he shared his frightening reality. “I want to help her once she—well, you know. It’s all happening sooner than we anticipated.”

Nelson took a deep breath and swallowed before speaking. “I’m so sorry. That must be horrible for you.”

The old man stared ahead. He pursed his lips before speaking. “We’ve had our cry.” He inhaled deeply and offered a momentary half-smile. “Now it’s time to prepare for the next chapter in our lives.”

Nelson offered a quick nod to the elderly stranger, unsure of what else he could say under the circumstances. He turned toward the small window wondering why he ended up sitting next to this particular stranger. Was it another sign? A slight grin spread across his face.

He closed his eyes and pressed the back of his head into the thin seat. He allowed long-repressed blurred memories to come forward. He recalled sitting on his grandmother’s lap as a young child. Her perfume tickled his nostrils. His parents and other adults were in the living room drinking coffee and sharing a conversation about something he couldn’t understand. Across the room, quietly sitting in a high back chair, sat his frail grandfather—a man he had never met before that day.

Resting on his grandfather’s lap was a large, pale green pillow that supported a thick, oversized book—all the pages were white, and no words were printed on them. His grandfather lightly pressed his delicate fingers onto the page and slowly moved them across the page as if the page was a keyboard. A stubble of gray whiskers covered his thin, expressionless face as his head remained stationary. No one was speaking to him. His eyelids were shut tight and they were set far back into his hollow eye sockets. They never opened. He never spoke.

A few years later, Nelson learned that his grandfather had been living in a special home for the blind and infirm, but his last wish was to spend his final days sleeping in in his own bed, in his own home.

“Excuse me, sir. Would you please pull your seat forward?”

Nelson shook his head as he realized where he was. “Yes. Of course,” He answered the flight attendant and adjusted his seat as requested. He listened to the commotion around him and noticed his seatmate had already put away his book and was sitting quietly.

As the plane descended for its landing approach, another reminder for passengers to make sure their seat belts were fastened was announced. Nelson turned to the old man next to him and said, “I’m so sorry about your wife’s sight and I hope the best for both of you.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your positive thoughts.” He extended his hand and two generations ended their journey in mutual respect.

Nelson smiled and realized the old man was right after all, kindness isn’t just free, it’s priceless.

John D. Britto