We were about to board the plane leaving London, England for Cairo, Egypt, when my oldest daughter had her third nosebleed. I rustled through my bags, searching for towels, wet wipes, or anything to help clot her nose. I found my makeup wipes and pressed the wipe to her bleeding nostrils while pinching the bridge of her nose. A woman with tan skin wearing an abaya and hijab while caring for her toddler daughter approached us. “Excuse me. The best way to stop the bleeding is to pinch the nose. Make sure she doesn’t lean back,” she said. 

“Yes,” I answered. I’ve had nosebleeds since I was two, and I’ve had my nose cauterized. She’s had nosebleeds as well.” 

As it turned out, the woman was a physician who split her time between Cairo, Egypt and the United Kingdom. She spoke with kindness and tenderness as I tried to clot my daughter’s bloody nose. I relished this spontaneous conversation sparked by my daughter’s ailment. This woman and I bonded over our children.

Her young daughter attempted to dart away, so she nodded and chased after the smiling young girl. Moments later, we walked onto the plane bound for Cairo. The flight included a handful of young children, including an infant. Her parents were a young Egyptian Muslim couple with panic painted on their faces as their infant daughter screamed for the entire five hours to Cairo. The same woman who offered comfort to me during my daughter’s condition walked the plane’s aisle to extend the same compassion to this young couple. 

My seven-year-old daughter curled into a fetal position and slept four out of the five hours. However, there was a time she was that screaming infant. I struggled to get pregnant with her, and when I did, the doctor told me I would miscarry. I prayed and prayed for this child, and her birth was a miracle. Still, despite all this, she was born with an impossible, colicky, and restless personality. But I just didn’t care because she was here. After surviving my challenging infant, I didn’t stress about this baby’s screaming throughout the flight. Instead, my heart empathized with the parents. 

Finally, we were ready to leave the plane. The passengers lined up to exit, and the infant girl found herself asleep in her young mother’s arms. Soon we arrived at customs and were introduced to a gentleman who stamped visas into our passports before joining the line to officially enter the country. The man extended his hospitality to my daughter, “Hi, who are you, little princess?” 

Berlin glanced at me. She was tired and in no mood to engage in small talk with strangers.

“I apologize, but she’s tired and can be shy.”

He nodded and directed us to the line. Our next stop was baggage claim, where the man waited again. His job consisted of navigating us through the airport to our hotel transfer. He stood with a gentle smile. His hand emerged from his pocket with a piece of Egyptian gum. He bent down to look at Berlin and, with a smile, said, “I have two boys around your age. Here, have some gum.” 

Berlin returned the smile and grabbed the gum.

“What do you say?” I asked her. 

“Thank you,” Berlin said. 

The man turned to help other members of our tour group find their bags as Berlin placed the gum into her mouth. She instantly spewed it out, “Mom, this is spicy.” I found the nearest trash can and disposed of the gum, but I was proud of my picky daughter for trying something new. 

Dinner on the ship cruising the Nile River was a traditional Egyptian dish. I ordered the Egyptian fish, which was the most flavorful and tender filet I’ve ever tasted. My daughter, on the other hand, joined the ranks of royalty. Our table’s manager called her “princess” as he presented her with light pink strawberry ice cream. It was a routine that occurred every night on the ship. The manager, we discovered, had four children of his own. He was unemployed for over two years during COVID. 

One night I went to the cruise ship’s jewelry store searching for a camel necklace for Berlin. We rode camels through the Pyramids of Giza, and she desired a necklace to remember that experience. Only one person was working in the small store, and he excelled at customer service. I originally chose a gold camel but quickly decided against it due to the price. The clerk directed my attention to a silver camel necklace with a much more affordable price tag. This became a lucky moment in my life because our interaction sparked a conversation about our children. He paused from his work to grab his phone and show me pictures of his three beautiful children—two girls and a boy. I took my phone to return the gesture to highlight my two charming daughters. Smiles invaded our faces as we shared our most prized possessions—our children. Finally, I paid for the necklace and said, “shukran.” 

            The tour ended with our 7:00 a.m. flight, which required a 2:30 wake-up call. I decided to spend our last afternoon in Cairo by Sofitel Cairo Nile El Gezirah’s pool watching Berlin swim. She found a friend and spent her time jumping in the water with her. I don’t know what alerted me, but a young blonde-haired girl wearing a pink swimsuit and hat stood by the pool’s edge, looking dejectedly into the water. She had lost her arm floaty in the water. I tiptoed over to her, grabbed the floaty, and handed it to her. Her blue eyes met mine, and she said, “merci,” before darting back to her parents. 

While I came to Egypt to experience history and culture, I discovered humanity. I didn’t blend in with the Egyptian parents. I’m tall and blonde with green eyes and skin as porcelain as my grandmother’s dolls, but the love for our children created a universal bond. 

Kayla Branstetter is an English professor for Crowder College, a mother, writer, artist, and photographer from Missouri. She holds a MALS degree in Art, Literature, and Culture from the University of Denver. Her creative nonfiction, poetry, art, fiction, and photography have appeared in the following publications: Tangled Locks Journal, New Plains Review, The Kansas City Star, Grand Dame Literary Journal, Humans of the World, New Reader Magazine, The Write Launch, the Crowder Quill, Light & Space 'All Women' exhibit, Light & Space "Abstract" exhibit, The Human Family--Human Rights Festival, The Paragon Press-Echo: Journal of Creative Nonfiction, 805+, High Shelf Press, The Esthetic Apostle, the gyara journal, Fredericksburg Literary and Art Review, Buringword Literary Journal, The Poet's Choice, The Sheepshead Review, and a former contributing writer to a regional magazine Ozark Hills and Hollows. Recently, her art pieces, 'Life's Dance' and "Aurora" were featured in exhibitions for M.A.D.S a contemporary art gallery in Milan, Italy. She has received an art award from Rome, Italy and in 2022, received another art award from Italy. She is currently working on her first book.