The Missing Pendant

Snap. Crackle. Pop. As the altitude shifted, my ears felt like Rice Krispies sloshing in a bowl of milk. The pilot didn’t announce the descent. But my body signaled it was time to fasten the seatbelt.     

I yawned. I slid my jaw from side to side. I swallowed gargantuan gulps of water. Ah! Muffled sounds became clearer, and I sank back into the seat. Suddenly I felt a strange sensation on my chest. Then I heard a muted thud. 

Glancing down at my neck, I gasped in shock. My pendant was missing! The black, double cord still hugged my neck. The silver prongs that previously held this precious piece were now shiny fingers fumbling in air.     

My husband looked at me. I told him what happened as my left hand explored the crusty, cracking crevices of the seat. Something shiny and pointy stared at me; it seemed to say, “Help! I’m squished and stuck!”     Instead of retrieving it, my slight touch shoved it down further. Now I panicked. I typically wouldn’t freak out about a material object. But this holds sentimental and spiritual value for me in ways difficult to describe.   

Alec and Zoe, who sat behind us, noticed the commotion. Touchdown. The next thud was our plane landing in Fort Lauderdale. Alec wisely grabbed his phone and turned on the light. He shone it everywhere near the area.      I asked the flight attendant for gloves. Trust me, you do not want to ever see or touch what lies beneath an airplane seat. Full on search and rescue had commenced.     

As passengers deplaned, all four of us explored every area imaginable. The Jet Blue flight attendant joined us! She was such a sweet soul; I am beyond grateful for her kindness.     

Imagine five people crouched and crawling in an already cramped space. We’d been traveling all day. We all just wanted to get home. And I felt even worse because the flight attendant was flying right back to Boston.     

Then Alec shouted, “I think I see it!!” Zoe said, “Move over please; my hands are smaller than yours. I can get it.”     

The kids looked up at me with pride. I heard my daughter say, “I got it!” I thanked my family and the flight attendant repeatedly. Even the rose quartz and topaz pendant seemed to hum with relief.     

I still don’t and won’t understand how that inanimate piece seemed to literally leap from my body. What I do know is anything can happen at any time. It’s how you handle what occurs that matters most. I’d honestly let go of the outcome after a few minutes. My husband, kids, and flight attendant decided to mobilize and that meant the world to me.     

Maybe sitting in the front row isn’t always the best idea. As I wrote in a previous blog, we watched and my husband caught a man as he fainted. Perhaps on my next journey, I’ll sit somewhere in the middle. Every soul has a story!