The flight went on, but her words stayed with me: trouble breathing. I should have paused. I should have felt empathy. But I didn’t. I closed my eyes and shut everything else out.
When we landed, I hurried to stand, eager to escape the recycled air and the small twinge of guilt settling in. Reaching for my bag, I noticed her struggling to gather hers, wincing with effort. A flight attendant quickly came to help. As I moved down the aisle, the attendant gently tapped my shoulder.
It wasn’t a scolding. It was a fact that hit me squarely. I hadn’t been cruel, but I hadn’t been considerate either. My comfort had taken priority over her well-being. As I walked through the terminal, her words echoed louder than the announcements above.
That brief flight became a mirror I couldn’t ignore. I realized how easily I’d dismissed someone else’s struggle because it didn’t inconvenience me. How often had I done that before? In traffic, in lines, in conversations where I was too busy formulating my response to truly listen? It’s shocking how quickly we can overlook another person’s needs.
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