Strangers in old photographs. Who are they? What are their stories? Where are they now? Why do they evoke such feelings?

At the Baggage Carousel

We sat next to her
on the airplane,
my wife and me.

She was a lonely girl;
in her twenties we guessed;
going, she said, to visit her father.

We learned that
she had a stepbrother,
much younger but
his dad was supposed
to be in town also and
maybe, for the few days of her trip,
he would pick the kid up and
then it would be just she and her dad
hopefully.

After a while
the plane landed,
right on schedule,
and as we disembarked,
we watched as she
searched for her father
but he was not there.

Long minutes later,
with only a little luggage left
on the baggage carousel,
we finally saw her with an older man...

and a young boy.
She was smiling then,
outwardly.

Next poem: Incidental Contact

Author: Jerry Dan Deutschendorf
from: Red Earth Whisperings
Part III: Family and Friends