No one spoke.
No one even shifted in their seat.
Behind me, the young woman who had encouraged me gave a small, sad smile.
“You just saved them,” she said softly. “You should keep them.”
Her words startled me.
I shifted the babies carefully in my arms and returned to my seat.
As the flight continued, I spoke with her quietly. I told her about my daughter. About my grandson. About the funeral that was waiting for me when the plane landed.
I told her about the heavy silence I feared returning to in my home.
She listened carefully.
Then she asked me where I lived.
I gave a small, tired smile.
“Anyone can find my house,” I said. “It’s the bright yellow one with the oak tree growing right through the porch.”
When the plane finally landed, I carried the babies with me to airport security.
The staff immediately contacted social services.
They searched the entire airport.
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