Feeling Comfort

While waiting for my plane at the gate recently, I noticed a young kid eating his snack. A completely mundane event except for how much love and care someone had put into preparing it. It was a slice of bread decorated with jams of different color and some berries to make it look like a smiling face. The child was likely traveling alone for the first time. What caught my attention was how carefully he was eating his food trying not to destroy its perfection. I often pack my food for the flight specially if it will be long enough for me to miss my regular meal times. Every time, my food gets pulled aside by TSA for closer inspection but it passes without hitch. It seems to make a world of difference to my experience if I can eat food I cooked at home. 

Some distance away from the kid, I ate my meal - we were the only two. I grew up in India knowing that you always carried food with you when you traveled (and for us it was by train). You brought enough to last the trip but sometimes that needed to be supplemented with a thali meal. Because it was such a novelty to eat out while traveling, I have happy memories of Indian Railways food. It generally signaled we were close to our destination because we had finished all the food we had brought for the trip. I am glad that I have reintroduced that part of my childhood travel experience into my life now. The only difference is that I am in a minority of one (two this time) but back then just about everyone in the train had their own meals packed and ready to eat - it was such a natural thing to do.