I was wandering around the Albuquerque International Support airport. My flight had been delayed and I heard an announcement: “If anyone near Gate A-4 understands Arabic（阿拉伯语）, please come to the gate immediately.” Gate A-4 was my own gate. I went there.

    An older woman was crumpled（蜷缩成一团的）on the floor, crying loud. In her traditional Palestinian dress, she reminded me of my grandmother.

    “Talk to her,” urged the flight agent. “We told her the flight was going to be late, and she did this.”

    I bent over to put my arm around the woman and spoke uncertainly. “Shu-dow-a, shu-bid-uck, habibti? Stanischway, min fadlick, shu-bit-se-wee?” She stopped crying. She thought the flight had been called off. She needed to be in El Paso for a medical treatment the next day. I said, “You'll get there, just late. Who is picking you up? Let's call him.”

    We called her son. In English, I told him that I would stay with his mother until we got on the plane. She talked with him. Then we called her other sons just for fun. Then we called my dad and they spoke for a while in Arabic and found out that they had several shared friends. After that, I called some Palestinian poets I knew and let them chat with her.

    She was, laughing a lot but then, patting my knee and answering questions. She pulled a bag of homemade cookies filled with dates and nuts and topped with sugar from her bag and offered them to the people at the gate. To my amazement, no one declined. It was like a sacrament（圣餐）. The traveler from Argentina, the mom from California, the lovely woman from Laredo--- We were all smiling, covered with the same sugar.

    I looked around the gate and thought. This is the world I want to live in, one with no anxiety. This can still happen anywhere, I thought. Not everything is lost.