I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not my favorite person every time I have to leave my family. As a little girl who struggled with severe separation anxiety, saying goodbye to my loved ones is a feeling I dread. It usually creeps up on me the day before, transforming my being from fun-loving vacation Amanda to nearly-imploding, always on the brink of tears Amanda. She’s not exactly stable when I leave my family, and travel days are typically filled with emotions. If you talk to me at the airport, there’s an equal chance I’ll either greet you with a smile or start bawling as I repeat, “I’m so sorry, I just had to say goodbye to my parents.”
Knowing this, you can imagine that I’m not the most steady person at the airport. I prefer not to speak to anyone at length, but to listen to my favorite podcast and get something tasty, and usually unhealthy, to munch on before my departure. The goal? Get home as soon as possible, without interacting with anyone who might set me off.Â
As I boarded the plane home from spring break and walked down the aisle, I realized that an older man was sitting in my seat. Tired, fragile, and just completely done with the day, I thought to myself, “Great, another useless obstacle in my way.” Getting closer, I put on my best confused, yet friendly, face and voiced my concern about this stranger taking up the spot I paid for. He looked down at his ticket and started to apologize.
That’s when I noticed the two young girls sitting next to him.
This man, a dad of two, forgot to choose the correct seat and had just placed himself on the aisle next to his daughters without thinking. His actual seat, a row up in the middle of two older women, was the one I ended up taking.Â
Why? Because I took the power away from assumption.
Think about it. I could’ve been a total jerk to someone who was a perceived “challenge” to my travel plans. I could’ve exploded on him for not reading his ticket correctly. I could’ve yelled at the stewards for not checking identification before seating. I could’ve done a million things to make myself feel, in some twisted way, avenged, and this man ashamed. Some small, strange part of me wanted to be mean, wanted to try and make this man feel bad for inconveniencing me in my time of pain.Â
It’s important, in these moments, to remove assumptions’ control and place it in our own hands.
Looking at those two little girls, I saw myself and my sister reflected in the situation. I thought about how scared I would be if I didn’t have my dad sitting next to me on our flight. I considered how grateful my parents would be if someone just allowed the situation to be what it was, instead of escalating it.Â
We let assumption dictate an incredible amount of our emotional capacity. If someone gives us a look, they hate us. If someone acts differently, then they must be insane. Someone crying in the bathroom? Emotionally unstable and weak. Cutting in front of us in line? Total b*tch behavior! Laughing too loudly? Inconsiderate, and I wish they would go away.Â
Too often, and to our own detriment, we jump to conclusions, and most of the time, they’re not positive. Believe me, I’m more than guilty of this. There have been a great many moments in my life where I wish nothing but to go back and choose to be kind. As I’ve grown older, the phrase “you don’t know what’s happening behind closed doors” feels consistently true.Â
Someone looks our way? They like our outfit. Laughing out loud? Let me in on that joke! Crying in public? Maybe a smile could go a long way.Â
To make mistakes is to be human, to act differently is to be unique, and to share emotion is to be alive. Our souls can’t fit the molds of others.Â
So with a smile, I told the man to stay put and that I would take his seat. Although he repeatedly asked me if I was sure, my mind was made up: do not assume what’s behind the curtain simply because you can see the stage. As I sat down in a seat that was not mine, but one that growth and love directed me to, one of the women beside me made a remark about my kindness. She was surprised by how calmly and gracefully I handled the situation. Turning to her, I smiled and said:
“I would’ve wanted to be with my dad, too.”