Rachel’s Eyes

I arrived at my LAX gate after almost two hours in El Al security just in time to be evacuated to the corridors. Female counter attendants were quickly reaching under every seat. Others hurriedly but carefully removed every trash container from the immediate area. Then out of no where, a striking young woman. She resembled another young ticket agent who was the first to die in a terrorist attack three years before. She analyzed each passport while asking a dozen different questions in a dozen different ways, but always punctuating each question with a smile. Some were readmitted. Others scanned for nitrogen-based residues. And some were sent to disrobe; those deviating from single file quickly recognized the IDF (Israeli Defense Force) connections of this twenty-something crowd. Then as I handed her my passport, I noticed her eyes, beautiful eyes, Rachel’s eyes … but in them, the weariness of four thousand years.