It has been nearly a year since the wedding of my son Brad and his love, Kristen, in Richmond, Va. This story centers on my flights to and from their nuptials.

        I ordinarily keep to myself during a flight, but happily my seat-mate was not aware of this pattern. We entered into a spirited conversation immediately.

        Even before the plane took off, we had exchanged information on our children, careers, and favorite authors.

        We found we had mutual acquaintances, but this is not unusual for Cincinnatians. What was unusual was the delightful, pour-it-all-out friendship we enthusiastically struck up, and the happy realization that we were sharing the same flight back — with almost the identical seat assignments.

        During the weekend, I realized that I was storing chronological and precise details of the festivities, both large and small, in my head so I could share them with my new friend. For instance, the loving support of my family. The prayerful, solemn attitude of my son and his bride at the altar. The beautiful liturgical music provided by my sisters. The blessings of a fine, appreciative and happy family of in-laws. The camaraderie enjoyed among family members and among friends old and new.

        Exhausted, overwhelmed and emotional, but exceedingly gratified, I was in a reflective mood on Sunday afternoon as I sat on the plane for the flight home.

        Here comes JoAnn, rushing down the center aisle, searching me out, and waving a wedding announcement of the newlyweds that had been published in Richmond's newspaper that morning. Before she sat down, we were already talking, laughing, and peppering each other with questions, because we both had surprising twists in our stories about our weekend, plus wedding snapshots and leftover cake to share.

        An astute woman surmised what was going on and kindly exchanged her seat so my new friend and I could sit together. We must have looked to her like long-lost, years-deep buddies. It would have surprised her to know that, although JoAnn and I had made an instant, intense connection just three days earlier, neither of us intended to keep it going.

        It was “merely” a graced moment on our life screens.

        So, JoAnn Schroeder LeFleur from Mason, consider this a virtual bouquet of roses for being a loquacious friend when I had an unrecognized, but large need for one.

        Donna Mierenfeld, 50, lives in Mount Washington.

        Share recent moments in your life. Fax 768-8330; e-mail: mfuqua@enquirer.com. Columns submitted to the Enquirer may be published or distributed in print, electronic or other forms.

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