Twice in the past 6 months I've flown on a plane next to someone who had a story for me. The story starts with my certainty that I'm about to meet God because the plane has a 100% chance of breaking apart mid-air in the sky, and falling 35,000 feet to the ground in a firey mass. So whoever is sitting next to me, not realizing they are about to meet their maker, begins innocently chatting out a tale of how they almost died because of a heart attack and how unafraid and grateful they are now because every extra day they have is a gift. Most recently I sat next to a man, who for half of the 4 1/2 hour flight talked to me about his new governemnt job in Arlington VA, how he spent the weekend practicing getting around the city on the Metro with his 13 year old son (who was with him), and how many wonderful things there are to do in DC. It wasn't until I watched the son move the father's (slack and non-muscular) legs out of the way so he could go to the bathroom, did I realize the man was parapalegic (he had been sitting down before I got on the plane). So I've been thinking about the message spoken to me, and I think it is: I need to be less afraid and just try live until I die. Instead of doing what I'm doing now, which is being crippled by a certain amount of fear which is prevents me from true living. I've been so careful, too cautious, because I never really had anyone looking out for me while I was growing up. Maybe now I'm old, and have less to future protect, I can relax a little. Or maybe I just wish getting on a plane didn't feel like the death penalty, because I have a lot of flying to do this summer. | 