Once I settled into my seat, I tried to put the matter aside.
There wasn't much else I could do.
Grandma had made her decision.
The boarding passes had been changed.
And the aircraft was preparing for departure.
I looked toward the front of the cabin.
Everything around me seemed ordinary.
Passengers were settling in.
People were arranging their belongings.
The flight attendants were moving through the aisle.
I thought about Grandma sitting somewhere behind me.
I wondered whether she was comfortable.
I also wondered whether she had any idea how much her decision had bothered me.
I didn't want to spend her birthday trip feeling annoyed.
That seemed unfair.
So I tried to forget about the ticket.
The flight continued.
For a while, I occupied myself with the ordinary things people do during a journey.
I stayed in my seat.
I looked around.
I watched the activity in the cabin settle down.
But my thoughts kept returning to the same question.
Why had Grandma chosen the back?
It wasn't that she had refused the trip.
She had agreed to come to California.
She had accepted the birthday surprise.
She had even allowed me to purchase the ticket.
The only thing she had changed was where she wanted to sit.
That was what bothered me.
It seemed like such a specific decision.
I had offered her a more comfortable seat.
She had deliberately moved herself somewhere else.
I couldn't make sense of it.
I remembered her expression at the gate.
She hadn't looked angry.
She hadn't appeared frightened.
She hadn't even seemed uncertain.
She had been completely calm.
Almost as if she had already decided what she wanted before she approached the agent.
That thought stayed with me.
I looked toward the back again.
I couldn't see her from where I was sitting.
There were too many rows between us.
And I knew I couldn't keep wondering about her without eventually checking.
I waited a little longer.
Then I decided to get up.
I moved carefully through the aisle.
I passed the rows of passengers.
I looked from one side to the other.
I was trying to find the familiar brown purse.
Then I spotted it.
Grandma was sitting beside a window.
Her body was turned slightly toward the glass.
She appeared to be watching the clouds outside.
For a moment, I simply stood there.
She looked so small in that seat.
Not because she seemed helpless.
There was just something about seeing her so far away from the place I had chosen for her.
I approached her row.
She noticed me.
Her face softened.
I leaned toward her.
"Are you comfortable back here?"
She turned away from the window.
"Of course."
Her answer came easily.
Too easily, perhaps.
I looked at the space around her.
I checked whether she needed anything.
She seemed settled.
There was no obvious problem.
But I noticed something else.
Her hands.
They were holding the brown leather purse against her chest.
Not resting it beside her.
Not placing it somewhere convenient.
She was holding it firmly.
Her fingers were trembling.
At first, I thought perhaps the flight had made her nervous.
She hadn't flown in nearly three decades.
It would have been understandable if she felt unsettled.
But her hands didn't seem to match the smile she gave me.
I looked at the purse again.
It was the same one she had brought to the airport.
The same worn leather.
The same familiar shape.
And beside its zipper was something I had seen many times before.
A small pair of silver wings.
I didn't pay much attention to them.
They had been attached to the purse for as long as I could remember.
I had never considered them important.
They were simply part of the old bag.
Something Grandma had kept there.
Something that belonged with the purse.
I looked back at her face.
"Are you sure everything is okay?"
She smiled.
"Everything is fine."
I wanted to believe her.
But there was something about the way she held that bag.
Her arms were close to her body.
Her fingers stayed wrapped around the leather.
Even while speaking to me, she didn't loosen her grip.
It looked almost protective.
As if the purse contained something she couldn't afford to misplace.
I considered asking her what she was carrying.
Then I stopped myself.
It was her personal bag.
I had no reason to question her about it.
Besides, I didn't want to make her uncomfortable.
I had already spent enough time questioning her decision at the gate.
I didn't want to turn a simple visit into another argument.
So I let the question go.
Grandma turned her attention back toward the window.
I followed her gaze for a moment.
The clouds stretched beyond the glass.
She seemed absorbed in them.
I stood there, unsure whether to say anything else.
Then I decided to return to my own seat.
I told myself she was probably fine.
She had said so.
She had smiled.
There was no reason to make a problem out of something I couldn't explain.
I walked back toward the front.
The distance felt longer than it had when I first came to check on her.
I kept thinking about her trembling fingers.
I kept seeing the way she held that purse.
And I kept wondering why she had been so determined to sit in that particular part of the aircraft.
When I reached my seat, I sat down again.
I tried to concentrate on something else.
But the image stayed with me.
Grandma beside the window.
The brown leather purse pressed against her chest.
Those little silver wings beside the zipper.
I had seen all three things countless times.
Yet somehow, on that flight, they seemed different.
I couldn't explain why.
I didn't know what she was keeping inside the purse.
I didn't know what she was remembering while she watched the clouds.
And I didn't know why she had chosen to sit so far away from me.
I only knew that her smile hadn't answered my questions.
For the first time since the journey began, I wondered whether her decision had nothing to do with comfort at all.
Click here to continue reading: PART 3: The Little Silver Wings on Her Old Purse Had Never Seemed Important, Until Someone From the Cockpit Noticed Them
I Thought I Was Giving My Grandmother the Birthday Trip She Deserved, Until She Quietly Rejected the One Thing I Had Bought Her
Part 2 of 8
