7“Okay Ce Ce, leave all of your stress, worry, and troubles in your car,” I said aloud to myself. “When you get back from work you can handle them.”

I collected my luggage and walked to the employee bus that took me to the airport terminal. I was on my way to work a three-day trip as a flight attendant. I was feeling pretty darn good; I woke up early, meditated, and wrote out ten things I was grateful for.

Doing my flight galley duties, I was on my knees with my head inside a beverage cart, restocking soda cans, when I heard someone say, “Excuse me ma’am.” I backed out of the cart and looked up to see a man who ap­peared to be in his mid-thirties.

His hands were massaging his forehead. “I have a terrible headache. Do you have aspirin?”

I gave him some aspirin with a cup of water. Being an empath allowed me to feel his head pressure in my own. He tore open one packet and gulped down the tablets right away. He was a stressed-out mess. The en­ergy in his aura was twisting, bouncing, and spinning like it was break-dancing. I knew the real root of his problem was beyond physical.

“What’s troubling you?” I asked.

He sighed and extended his empty cup to me. I poured him more water.

He gulped the water down and said, “My job is in Washington and my wife and children live in California. Makes for a lot of stress. My wife complains about me being a part-time father. I can only afford to visit my family once a month.”

“Are you planning to move your family to Washington?” I was a changed person; there was a time when I would’ve checked out his cheap-looking clothes and shoes and not given him the time of day.

“No. I don’t want to uproot my children from their schools. I don’t want to be the bad guy and yank them away from their friends.”

“You and your wife should weigh the pros and cons of moving or not moving,” I suggested.

He rubbed his cheeks and face, from his chin up to his forehead, mak­ing his face turn rose pink.

“You need to remember yourself and your needs too,” I said.

His face relaxed. Maybe he felt like this was the first time someone had valued his feelings. He smiled and gave me that familiar look of someone seeing through me. “You seem like someone who believes in magic,” he said.

“And how,” I said with a smile.

“May I share a story with you?”

“Sure,” I said, and moved to the nearby jump-seat and sat down.

“A friend of mine who I haven’t spoken to in a long time called and said he had a round- trip airplane ticket that was going to expire soon. He wanted to know if I wanted the ticket. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be able to visit my family for Thanksgiving,” he said, a tear sliding down his cheek. He quickly brushed it away, embarrassed to be seen crying.

I patted him on the back and said, “You earned that ticket because you have a good heart. You are trying to consider everyone’s needs.”

“Okay, this may sound weird, but when I saw you at the boarding gate, I saw white light around you, and I knew you’d understand.”


“Oh, that’s not all. Let me show you what I saw.” On a cocktail napkin he drew passengers sitting in their seats. He drew me walking down the aisle with a trail of light following me. As I walked, the stream of light bounced from one passenger’s head to the next.

I wasn’t surprised by what he saw, because I’d taken classes to learn to see colors and light in people’s auras. For a moment I thought, who am I to have such abilities? His compliment made me think about my fanatic Jehovah’s Witness mother because being able to touch people this way would’ve made me more of an outcast to her. She felt only Jesus and peo­ple in the Bible were worthy of such powers. In her mind, if modern-day people had these talents, they came from Satan. I began to feel happy that I could touch someone in a way that would brighten their day. “Wow!” I said. “Are you a psychic or a healer?”

“No. I don’t know how I was able to see light around you, because I don’t see it around other people. This is the first time it’s happened.”

Collapsing my hands over my heart, I said, “Thank you.” Holding his napkin artwork felt like I was holding an original Rembrandt.

“You know, maybe it’s possible I got the headache because I was sup­posed to speak to you. No aspirin has ever lifted my spirit the way you have.”

We hugged and I thanked him for giving me a precious gift of confirmation.

I’d come a long way. Instead of men telling me, “You have a fine ass,” I was being told, “I see your light and your aura is beautiful.” I still have a great ass, but now it’s adorned with light.

I didn’t always shed light. Back in the day, you might have gotten a dose of my venom.