Row 17 Seat E.

"There's a somebody 

I'm longin' to see

I hope that he turns 

Out to be

Someone to watch over me."

If you've ever flown Southwest Airlines, you probably know about their open-seating format. Some love it, others hate it, and many just want to get from Point A to Point B. I am in the first group—they're my very favorite airline.

There's something very odd about flying Southwest; it usually happens on a packed flight when you are one of the last to board the plane— you see so many eyes darting away from yours in hopes you will not see "that" seat. You know the ones, they're protecting that precious middle seat that sits between you and take off. However, when there are no other seats available, it's not like we're going to stand during the flight. (I am sure some would like us to give it a try, but it's not going to happen.)

Such was the case this past Friday. I was in the "C" group, which I think means, we don't want to "C" you get on and sit in our valuable middle seat; the eyes were darting and because I saw  the last remaining overhead luggage slot available —it caught my attention. In went my bag, and to my right was that valuable middle seat. I said my usual, "I am sure I am not going to make any friends today." Yet, the woman on the aisle said, "No you're welcome to sit here." I was holding my coat and she asked, "Want me to put it by your bag up there?" I know, I was shocked too.

As normally happens, we struck up a conversation. That's Southwest…people just do that. Of course, this was after the eyes stopped darting and were now focused on two people talking. Although I didn't ask her name, after hearing her story, I knew I had to write about what "kind" of person I was sitting next to. (I use the word, "kind," because that would be the only way to describe her.)

We talked about kids, where we were from, our spouses and more; it turns out her husband had served in Afghanistan and represented our country valiantly. However, when he returned home he came back with life-changing injuries that truly reflect the "will to live" this Soldier/Dad/Husband had toward life. They had both grown up in a small town south of Minneapolis—I would assume close to the Iowa border. It appears it was a typical story where they lived in the same town, didn't really know one another, met and fell in love. I also learned their names are Megan and Jack.

Then it happened. 

Jack was in battle and although I don't have the details, I assume he either stepped on something, was hit, and suddenly his life changed. He lost both legs, his hand was injured to the point where they were not sure they were going to be able to save it—yet they did. In fact I learned he is able to drive and live a productive life. 

This could be the end of the story, but it's not.

Throughout years of recovery, Megan and Jack have come to the rescue and  taken on the responsibility, of letting people know their story—the importance of working together to spread the word to groups, and work with others to help mend lives. I was mesmerized. They took a negative situation and would not let it break them--they have done much more with their lives had this not happened, their determination is something we all need to focus on and accept its challenges.

The photo above was taken in Washington DC a number of years ago near the Vietnam Memorial; it's only fitting, as I was on board that plane, I  would meet someone who changed my life with her story—-all while I was sitting in Row 17 Seat E. 

Thanks for stopping by.