The woman from Egypt

A few weeks ago, maybe a month or so, I was checking in for the morning flight - the 8am JFK to London Heathrow. About 630 or so I called over the next passenger and was greeted with a small clan. Husband, wife, two kids, and the mother. When I asked for their passports and how much luggage they were taking, the husband informed me that just his mother would be traveling and that she was taking with her only one checked bag.

The son placed his mothers bag on the scale and I pulled up her ticket information by swiping her Egyptian passport. When I looked at the meter on the scale it read 28 Kgs, 3 kilos more than we are allowed to give as an allowance for checked baggage. I informed the son that his mother's bag was weighing in a bit heavy, and that if they could not get the needed 3 kilos out of the bag that I would have to charge for the heavy weight.

It was then that he, the son, explained why the bag was heavy. His mother and father had come over from Egypt for one last visit before the father passed (as he, the father, was on his death bed). While they were in New York visiting the father passed away, leaving the mother to travel back alone to Egypt with a few more personal effects.

A sense of sadness sunk in. I immediately apologized for the family's loss, told them I would see what I could do, and headed over to my manager to get the ok for an exemption. When I returned to the counter I again apologized to the family and explained that the extra weight wouldn't be a problem, that I had gotten the "ok" from my manager to take it without charge.

The son thanked me and we continued on with our transaction to get the mother checked in to her flights, first to LHR and then onwards to Cairo. As I extended my arm to reach for the woman's passport the mother leaned forward and began pointing at my left arm and speaking very fast and in an agitated manor. In the process of reaching for the documents my bracelets had slipped out past the cuff of my shirt and were then exposed for all to see.

The son did not hesitate to begin to explain that the bracelet on my wrist was one with all the patron saints of his mother. He explained that his mother could name each and every person depicted.

It was then that the mother began to say something else and search through her pockets. The son turned his attention from me to his mother and began to argue with her - plead really- but to no avail. The mother grabbed my had and put this in it...

It was the father's. The mother had given it to me because she was so touched by my bracelet, the one that you gave me.

I was floored.

There's no real reason that I tell you this story other than the ordinary beauty of it. Of all the bracelets I have ever owned and worn, the one you gave me is the only one that could produce such a beautiful and touching moment.

The universe works in strange ways to remind us what it is that it desires for us.