''Focus on the Good''

I’m on a plane, headphones in, music playing softly.

Flying isn’t something I particularly enjoy. It’s the hustle of getting to the airport, the queues, the security checks. Then there’s the crowd—so many people moving in every direction—and the over-glossy feel of duty-free with its endless shelves of perfume and expensive sun glasses... It’s all a bit much for me.

And then there’s the air conditioning. Why is it always so cold? The plane is in the sky, not in a sauna.

I sit here, wrapped in my jacket, music in my ears, watching the time and calculating how long is left to my destination. About halfway, I think.

And just as that thought passes through my mind, a woman walks by. I glance up and read the words printed on her jumper:

“Focus on the good.”

I smile, the timing couldn’t have been better—it’s exactly what I needed to hear. A quiet nudge, a little reminder to soften my gaze, to shift the lens of my thoughts.

So I do....I consciously start noticing the good.

This plane—this metal bird in the sky—offers something miraculous. A way to cross countries, oceans, entire landscapes, in a matter of hours. I think of my ancestors travelling by carriage, walking for days across hills and fields. What would they make of this? A seat in the sky, coffee served mid-air, flying to places they never even knew existed.

Flight attendants walk past, calm and attentive, making sure we’re all safe and comfortable.

Near me, a couple holds hands. She’s reading a book. He’s asleep beside her, still holding her hand. The quiet tenderness between them makes something inside me melt. There’s peace in the way they sit together... they look like they’ve weathered time together. I wonder how long it’s taken them to build that ease and what is their secret...

Across the aisle, three women are asleep. One of them reminds me of my grandmother—her profile, the softness in her face. My grandmother loved to travel, though she never flew. She took trains. She’d sit by the window, notebook in hand, writing down thoughts and impressions of the new places she discovered. Poems, stories, observations scribbled with care.

A tear slides down my cheek, I miss her.

But somehow, in that moment, it feels like she’s with me. That she sent me the message: focus on the good, written across a stranger’s jumper. I’m glad I looked up and I noticed.

Because when we pay attention, we start to see it.

The goodness, the beauty.

It’s all around us, quietly waiting to be acknowledged wherever we are. Even on a plane with dry air and cold toes.

Love,

Rosie x