It was in March 2022 that I realized how much the United States had changed. 

Our family of four is taking our first airplane flight in three and a half years. The pandemic and financial considerations have conspired to keep us close to home. Oh, who am I kidding, we weren’t just “close” to home, we were at home, for an entire year.

Online school, work, life, and three daily meals, all conducted under the same roof with the same four people, day in and day out. We have stayed healthy (a different story for many, including other family members and friends). We are grateful for our solid, safe house but it has been a long, trying stretch. Now that spring has arrived, we are more than ready for a change of scenery.

The pandemic, however, cares not that we are going stir-crazy and continues to rage. Traveling by air feels unfamiliar and somewhat dangerous. From the vantage point of my insulated daily life in a mid-sized midwestern city, it is hard to imagine the transformations the United States has undergone in the approximately two years since I last crossed state lines.

My eight and nine-year-olds are giddy with excitement as we board the plane, chattering throughout the process, asking frequent questions, and pointing in every direction “Is that the pilot? How many helpers (stewards and stewardesses) are there? “It’s cold in here! (the jetway). “Can I have my snack yet? (umm, we just sat down). Son and husband sit together, and my daughter and I settle in across the aisle.

Despite decades of flying under my belt I too feel excitement about take-off, as well as a renewed appreciation for the ability to travel at all. The months spent at home have helped me realize how much I took for granted the familiarity of airports, the invigorating bustle of humanity, and the thrill of jetting off to new places.

As we get comfortable, I become aware of a commotion a few rows ahead. Glancing over the seat backs I spot a man in his forties gesturing in a frustrated way. The attendants have asked him to put his oversized bag into an overhead compartment and he does not agree with their request. He feels inconvenienced and lets everyone around him know “Those son-of-a bitches in Washington” he says, loud enough for all of us in surrounding rows to hear, “They were supposed to lift the mask mandate but now they aren’t.” He thumps down out of view, but his mutterings are still audible.

A stewardess happens by on her way down the aisle and requests politely “Please put your mask on, sir.” A few minutes pass and another flight attendant delivers the same appeal. Both pleas go unheeded.

By now we have pushed off from the jetway and passengers all around are intent on their screens, books, phones, and laps. My daughter and I investigate seat-back screens and unpack water bottles and treats. I notice that no one offers opinions or gets involved with the uppity passenger in the way they might have three years ago. More time passes and we are now sitting on the runway. Didn’t the pilot just say we were about to get in line for take-off? Cabin lights dim and my daughter asks for the eighth time if we are in the air yet. She was so young when the pandemic began that she doesn’t remember the sequence of events involved in flying or what a full-body experience it can be when a flight takes off. 

The voice of the man three rows ahead rises again, and I feel a tightening in my chest. It sounds as if his voice is being forced out of his throat, the stream of discontented words floating above our seats. I know man, I want to say. We’re all tired of this. This destruction, this frustration, this upending of our lives. Why not wear an uncomfortable mask for a few hours to offer help to your fellow humans–to avoid someone carrying something home to their kids/elders, into their weak immune system, or worse?

I check myself and decide to refuse anger. I take the example of the patient flight attendants tending to this man. They treat him with firm respect. The first was a tall willowy Black stewardess with a kind, direct gaze. Minutes tick forward, the plane continues to idle in place. My daughter doesn’t mind, she realizes the screen in the seat back is hers and hers alone! She can choose a movie for herself! 

Suddenly, the pilot’s disembodied voice rings out through the cabin “Ladies and gentlemen, to let you know the reason for our delay, we had a passenger who was unwilling to comply with our mask rule, and we were planning to return to the runway. The passenger has now decided to comply. We want you to know that we don’t necessarily enjoy these rules either but we have them in place for our passenger’s safety.” 

Mid-flight, somewhere over the state of Tennessee, I wonder at the foundations of our democracy and whether the current political climate in the United States will ever allow for a thoughtful discussion of the roots of inequality and true injustice. My daughter watches “Encanto” (the fifth time she has seen it).

Outside our tin capsule, the sun has risen. My daughter points out a constellation of tiny reflections glinting off the pink ruby in my wedding ring. “The sun did it just for us!” she says. 

“We apologize for being late but we are making up as much time as we can” announces the pilot as we begin to descend to the Atlanta airport. A few passengers will miss their connections due to our late take-off, an entirely avoidable inconvenience. Is it too late for my country, I wonder, can we make up for all the time we spend judging, disagreeing, and complaining?

Maybe the fact that no one got outwardly angry at this man, that he eventually complied with the airline’s request, that the flight took off at all, is a win. Life (and flights) move forward whether or not we agree with the messy details.

A week later, on the plane ride home, one of my preschool students happens to be in the seat one row in front of me. The excited four-year-old is in awe that his teacher is there, on the same plane as him! He can see me through the crack between the two seats ahead of my son and me. “I want to tell you a secret,” he says, and I lean my head forward so that his voice is funneled directly into my waiting ear “Do you know…do you know” he splutters sweetly “this plane is going to fly in the air!”

His pure excitement is a reminder that astonishment can exist next door to cynicism. One human leans toward bitterness and contempt and another is innocent and enchanted. Wonder can be a seatmate to dissolution and they are both here, crammed into one cabin and one country, together.