“I didn’t know who Mrs. C was.”
A flight attendant near the cockpit pressed her knuckles beneath one eye.
“I learned later that Mrs. Clooney volunteered with an organization that sent handwritten birthday cards to children in foster care,” the captain went on. “She wrote hundreds every year. Eventually, thousands. Years later, I learned her full name through the nonprofit’s annual newsletter. When I saw it on today’s passenger manifest, I couldn’t believe my eyes.”
The rude woman beside Mrs. Clooney turned fully in her seat.
“I couldn’t believe my eyes.”
Mrs. Clooney shook her head gently, almost as if the numbers embarrassed her.
“Most of those children never met her,” the captain said. “Most never wrote back. She did it anyway.”
He stopped speaking for several seconds. When he returned, his voice had changed.
“I carried that card through six foster homes.”
Mrs. Clooney’s shoulders began trembling.
