Airplanes are strange places where lives intersect briefly then part ways. But my connection with one little passenger turned out to be anything but temporary. It started with a small weight suddenly pressing against me mid-flight – a preschool-aged boy with tousled hair had climbed into my lap like it was his rightful place.
As the flight continued, this stranger’s child fell asleep against my chest. No announcements, no searching parents. When we landed, the truth emerged – his parents had been seated rows away and never noticed he’d gone missing. The authorities got involved, and what I learned about his home situation kept me up at night.
Against all logic, I found myself volunteering to foster him. For six incredible months, Finn became the center of my world. We baked cookies together, read bedtime stories, and slowly healed his fears. When the court eventually returned him to his biological parents, the goodbye was agonizing – but those months taught me that family isn’t always about blood. Sometimes it’s about showing up when you’re needed most.
