I held hands with a stranger

It is evident in all of my writings that I have a fear of flying.  For the most part, I have been able to fly, though, grinning and bearing it.  In March, I flew to Florida by myself.  I did great.  I was hardly afraid at all.  So a quick flight to Salt Lake should have been a breeze.  I did, however, make sure to pack my anxiety pills, just in case.  When I first got on the plane, I realized that there was a person sitting in the seat next to me.  He looked, um, shall we say, kind of burly, maybe someone I DID NOT want to sit next to for the flight.  Well, I settled in next to him, and he started to chat with me.  He told me his name, asked me what I was reading, asked me where I was going, that sort of stuff.  My fear of flying includes me wanting to just stare out the window.  I am not prone to make light conversation with anyone, much less a stranger.  But I tried to answer him politely and get back to my window-watching.  We happened to have a lot in common.  He was going home to see his dad, I was going to go see mine.  He was a nervous flier, so was I, except his manifested in chatting with the window-watchers.  He turned out to be pretty interesting.  He was a member of my church but hadn't gone in many years. In fact, he was going home to get counsel from his dad on his life.  Pretty cool.  My short trip to Salt Lake, generally about 54 minutes usually took the normal course around the 30 minute mark and we started our descent.  The problem was that we really started to hit some turbulence, so much so, that they made the flight attendants take their seats.  (The flight attendants never got back up, by the way.)  I tried to talk with my new friend, thinking that we had only a short time left in the air, but this was serious stuff as we were bouncing around in the air.  I wanted more than anything to hop up and get my medication.  But at the same time, I wanted to master this stupid fear.  It kept getting worse.  Thirty minutes passed and we still weren't even close to the ground.  Actually, I couldn't see the ground, but I definitely didn't see any lights.  I wanted to cry, but was too embarrassed.  So I gripped my hands and clenched my teeth.  Suddenly, this sweet stranger, reached over and grabbed my hand in his and said that everything is going to be all right.  I was shocked and embarrassed, but he was so calm and sweet about it that I just let him hold my hand.  A couple of times, when the bumps got worse, he would take his other hand and gently rub the top of my hand to remind me that we were going to be ok.  For some reason, the flight was 30 minutes longer than the normal 54 minutes.  But there I sat for 30 minutes with my fingers intertwined with those of a stranger.  I laughed when I told him I couldn't wait to tell my kids I held hands with a navy submariner.  But I thanked him profusely for being there for me.  When we got off the plane, we both went our separate ways.  Maybe he detected my shame and embarrassment.  Maybe he was just a good guy.  I don't even know his name, but he made my life a little better.  Thanks.