The stranger struck up conversation on a delayed flight between Florida and New York. We were both struggling to entertain our toddlers, and we commiserated awhile. After the children fell asleep, he told me he’d recently left the Mormon church. He said he missed the community and the certainty he once felt. He was still figuring out how to raise a child without faith: for example, would I say there was a heaven if my daughter asked, even if I didn’t fully believe it?
Maybe it feels more natural to speak intimately with a stranger on a flight, when you are both uprooted and disoriented, not quite sure if it’s night or day or where the sun should hang in the sky. Maybe it’s more natural for your mind to turn to existential questions when you’re hurtling through the atmosphere at great speed, held up by forces you can’t fully understand. For a few hours we talked about fear and loss, and I later thought that while this kind of intensity is discouraged, maybe such subjects are actually best explored with someone completely unfamiliar to you, who sees the world quite differently.
