In 2026 I had taken a bit of a pilgrimage to see the Ghent Altarpiece because I was obsessed with the van Eyck brothers. I saw it a few times. Then one morning I woke up very early to fly out from the Brussels airport.
It was 5:00 AM. I was so tired and it was so foggy and dreary. Especially near the cathedral where I was staying.
As I was waiting for the trolley to catch a train to the airport, I looked across the street and the most beautiful old woman was having breakfast. Her hair was a perfect streakless white and the juice in front of her was such a vivid orange–almost red. I stared, and was caught in the moment for just a few seconds too long. I missed my train, was delayed, and had to wait for the next one.
As I finally approached the station, there was a smashing sound. I looked out the window and saw smoke rising from the airport. Then the train started running backwards to Mechelin where everyone had to get off because they had shut down all transportation in the region.
It was the 2016 Brussels Bombing. And I realized, I stood in a coffee shop to call my friends, that that woman had saved my life. If she hadn’t been there, I would have made my train and been in the terminal when and where it happened. In the moment, and sometimes after, she feels like God, or at the very least an angel. My mom, of course, pointed out that I didn’t see her drink the juice and angels do not need to eat.