Strangers on a plane

Monday, almost 3 days ago, I boarded the aircraft which brought me back to London. I wasn't particularly excited about the flight itself as int'l flights are one of my least favourite things. Honestly, it's always the people you sit by that make the flight a bit better or rather worse. Isn't that just like life?

So when I found my seat that evening, I wasn't sure how to feel about sitting next to a rather tense, grim woman and the little girl in her care. Before the plane even took its place on the runway, I realised (not without a little interest) that the woman and the girl were speaking completely in German. The woman, asking the flight attendant for meds to treat her unbearable headache, used halting, strained English.

I congratulated myself for pre-assigning myself to an aisle seat.

A short while into the flight, the woman shyly smiled at me and walked her fingers in the air to indicate that she and the girl wanted to get past my seat to use the lavatory. I smiled back and quickly stood into the aisle to let them by. While the German woman pulled out her bag from the overhead bins, the young girl looked at me with the steady shamelessness that only little ones can pull off.

I, in my shamelessness, decided that I would try communicating with the girl, an adorable blonde with bright eyes.
"HOW...OLD...ARE...YOU?" I said clearly and slowly, just to make sure that she understood the question.
"I'm 6 years old. What's your name?" she replied in effortless, native English.

Wow. I was the one who needed the help here.

I answered her and turned it right back on her. "What's your name?"
"Luna." she replied, "It's Spanish for 'moon.' My daddy and mommy met under a full moon, so they named me Luna!"
I smiled, delighted at the beautiful story.

"Are you going to London?" I asked.
"I'm going to Germany!" she declared.
"Do you live in Germany?" I queried, still in disbelief that this 6-year-old had complete, native fluency in both German and English.
"I live in Valencia."
"Oh."

I began to wonder if the reticent woman chaperoning her was her mother (I deemed this unlikely) or a German-speaking nanny taking her to the Fatherland...

Little Luna answered my silent question minutes later by asking "Mommy" a question. As Mommy dozed off, I entertained her by watching her play with a teddy-bear sticker book. Luna glanced deviously toward her sleeping mother and then leaned toward me and said, "Mommy and Daddy are divorced now." And just as quickly she returned back to playing with the stickers as if nothing had been said. I took another look at the German mother with lots more questions building in my mind but, out of the bit of propriety I have, kept them to myself.

A couple hours later, it was time for Luna's bedtime. She rested her head on her mother's lap and tucked her feet onto her own seat. It only took a few minutes before her feet involuntarily found their way to my knee. Something about this sweet, little girl with such a divided life stirred me and I preferred having her tiny feet in mismatched socks invade my plane seat.

Probably the most enjoyable flight I've had yet.

And here I am safe & sound!