I was hungry.
Although I knew that I probably wouldn’t have the chance to eat again until evening once I had arrived at my final destination in Cayes but it was only 8:45am. I had had breakfast about 5am in Jacksonville before leaving the airport. I contemplated getting some food. There was a stand not far from where I was seated. I was afraid though that if I left to get food, I would lose my seat. I was hungry, but the security of having a space to claim as my own, albeit temporarily, somehow outweighed the need for food. So I opted for a snack from my own bag.
As I munched some fruit snacks, I joined my neighbor in watching people. On the other side of the terminal stood a man that looked like what I assume Jesus might look like if he were in human form today. He was wearing cargo pants and a leather bomber jacket. His carry-on luggage consisted of a large backpack and his long brown hair was pulled back in a braid. And he had a beard. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as he began walking in my direction. He paused in front of me. His eyes scanned the crowd behind me and I am sure his glance must have rested momentarily on me as well. He stood there for a few seconds; long enough for me to wonder if he might be my angel. After all, he did look like what I thought could be Jesus. It could happen. He only paused for a few brief seconds though, and returned to the obscurity of the corner where he had come from and within minutes his traveling companion had joined him. I was still in the market for a miracle.
The terminal was busy. The air around was filled with the chatter of mostly Haitian men and women. Speaking to one another in Creole, laughing and joking, they seemed happy, perhaps excited about returning home to their loved ones. They were returning to their familiar. I was leaving mine.