Jill was already settled mid-row on the flight to Chicago when a woman edged into the aisle and indicated that she had the window seat. Jill quietly stood to let her go by as the pilot droned the routine instructions.

After lifting off, Jill stared ahead, hoping not to have to engage with either of her seatmates.

“Where are you off to?” the woman sitting near the window inquired.

“Chicago.”

“Oh, is that home or are you visiting someone?”

“I’m visiting my mother who is sick.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Where is home for you?”

“Boston.”

“I love Boston. I went to college there.”

The last thing Jill wanted was to chit chat, but she was beginning to feel guilty for being so unsociable.

“Oh, that’s nice. What college?”

“Boston College. I majored in Elementary Ed and now I’m an elementary school teacher in Framingham, about 45 minutes from Boston.”

The minute Jill heard the phrase “elementary school,” she felt as if she had been sucked into a vortex.

The pain of losing their 6-year-old daughter in a school shooting was still palpable. It tore through her gut when she was reminded of that day 17 years ago. It still seemed like yesterday.

She stared ahead again in silence.

“Do you have any kids?” Jill’s seatmate continued.

A knife pierced her heart. She never knew how to answer this question. If she said two, she was lying, because she really had only one now. But if she said one, she felt she was betraying Mary, her lost baby girl.

The tornado continued to engulf her. She needed to escape it, but she couldn’t. Instead, she feigned sleep for the remainder of the flight, but memories of that phone call so many years ago still swirled in her head.

Fortunately for Jill, the pilot came back on the intercom, jerking her into the present. When he was finished telling the passengers to prepare for landing, the woman continued chatting again, as if she had never stopped.

She looked out her window. “Whenever I fly at night, I look down and see these small pods of lights and each pod represents a town. I’m reminded that in each of those towns is a public school filled with dedicated teachers working hard to impart knowledge to each of their students.”

“Hmmmm, I…” Jill began. The plane touched down and the screech of the brakes drowned out her reply.