A stranger took the seat I’d paid extra for, laughed at me holding my six-week-old, and told a flight attendant she refused to move. They put me three rows behind my ten-year-old.

Her letter was one paragraph.

“Mrs. Vance — in March of last year I was moved out of 12C on a flight with my two-year-old, who has a feeding tube, and all of the equipment I needed was under that specific seat, and I spent the flight two rows away from him and I have not stopped thinking about it since. I was told there was a glitch. I got a letter this month telling me there wasn’t. I want your daughter to know that I have carried that flight for a year believing I’d made a fuss over nothing, and that the letter — which exists because of her — is the first time anyone has told me I was right. Please tell her. That’s the whole reason I’m writing. — O.”

I read it to Maya at the kitchen table.

She listened to the whole thing without saying anything.