I met Jack on a flight from Tampa to New Orleans around this time last year.

He was flying from Fort Lauderdale, as was I, but we didn’t see each other on the previous flight.

I’m glad the universe decided to put us in the same exit row, him on the aisle and me in the middle. We talked the whole flight.

Jack and I graduated from high school the same year. His wife left him and married his best friend. He was looking to get back into dating again and told me all about his three beautiful daughters for whom he lived to be their hero. And I was charmed.

Maybe he was too. Jack looked me up on Facebook five minutes after we said goodbye at MSY.

My mind was a thousand miles away before the flight. But then Jack started talking about how, when you give your body to someone, you give them a piece of your soul every single time.

I saw a tweet the other day to that effect:

“When we give our bodies to another being, we are giving them a piece of our souls. Take the time to find out if they deserve it.”

He had a wonderful voice. But this comment was LOUD.

Jack’s and my paths never did cross again. But they didn’t need to.

He might not have given my soul back that day. But he alerted me to protect what I have left.

I’ll always remember how beautiful it was when souls touched. Among other things.

And I’ll always wonder where those soul pieces go.

Lucky for me, my soul keeps regenerating.

Someday, when he can smile again, his will too.

And I’m not talking about Jack.

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