Thank you Mr. Pilot

Every picture has a story, so does this one. Before reading this text, you have to promise to be extra nice to someone today, it might mean more than you think :) 

In reality it was a beautiful summer day but I didn’t have the time to pay attention as I had a million things to do before the plane left. During the last weeks I had to finish work, write a paper, take an exam, pack my belongings and clean away the last traces of what was left of my life on Hermosilla Street in Madrid. I hadn’t slept almost anything for days and I was more than exhausted. A quick shower before I hailed a cab and headed for the airport. After checking in my bag I paid a short visit to the terminal restroom to put on a little makeup. I could almost smell and taste how I would find my plane seat, close my eyes and finally get some rest. Mounting that plane for Ibiza, the white island, meant so much to me. Closing one of the most important chapters of my life and get some vacation before stepping into a new one. 

But…there is always a but isn’t it? A little creature sitting beside me didn’t think about flying the way I did. The scream of fear of that child could break glass or even diamonds and out of disappointment and fatigue I couldn’t hold my tears back either. As exhausted as I was the teardrops were not rolling gently down my cheeks, instead weeks of tension was released like a flood on that plane.  At first the crew thought I was scared of flying just like that little child. As I tried to explain the situation to them, they moved me to the first section of the plane. Like a cliché a psychologist to my right helped me focus on my breathing. 

To my right there was a pilot flying standby. He took me under his wings and started to talk to me, he tried to make me think of something else and to calm me down. He made me laugh a little (then I cried again), he pointed out the small islands through the airplane window, he showed me pictures and he told me about his life. I had the newly painted mascara mixed with salty tears all over my face. All the while I was thinking  - how could anyone care to talk to me or let alone be friends with me under these circumstances? The plane landed and he even helped me with the bags (which by the way broke too). Some days later he checked in on me, asking how I was. Still in limbo, I could barely manage to answer even though my heart was full of gratefulness. This painting is a way for me to share the story and to show my gratitude.

There truly are some good-hearted unselfish people out there. I was lucky to meet one of them. He has a painting on his fridge made by a little girl he flew once, and I knew I wanted to make my own version. 

Thank you Mr. Pilot for taking care of me that day on that plane!