He seems a bit baffled as my tentative smile and acne blessed face look up at him from my place against the window. He nods at the seat beside me and I tilt my chin forward in response. We have an understanding. He sits.

There's surprise in his eyes when I offer the piece of gum. Simple generosity is fast dying.

"Gabrielle," I say, placing my hand indicatively on my chest.

"Nelson," He replies, extending his hand.

A conversation begins with vaguely nosey questions.

No, he does not live in San Fransisco, just visiting. I had been in the city just long enough to buy a bottled iced coffee as I hurried from the arrival gate to yet another departing gate. My time in California was short lived to say the least.

I had started my day in Alaska, and would end it having set foot in five different states: Alaska, Washington, California, Oklahoma, Kansas.

This sparks subtle curiosity, so I eagerly explain.

Like most of my "seat pals" he looks at me; caught somewhere between wanting the conversation to end and wanting to know more, aversion and admiration, confusion and relation.

He's kinder than he may otherwise be; to this stranger, I am one full of surprises. The first being my age, it's the thing that surprises most people. I'm young. Younger, albeit not by much, than he originally thought, and younger than he expects a missionary to be.

I explain what it is my team and I did in Alaska. I tell him about the children's ministry, and about going house to house. He does not ask, but still I go on to clarify that going house to house is about building relationships and getting to have personal conversations.

"That's what living for Jesus is, in part, about. It is about living in a saving, life transforming relationship with Him."

The conversation peters off after a short time. He puts his headphones on, and starts watching a movie he has downloaded on his phone. I stare out the window for a period of time before opening my journal and detailing my life of the past ten days.

An hour and a half later, the plane lands. We say some pleasant parting words and go. 

My parents are there waiting for me when I reach baggage claim. We embrace and I wait for my duffel, watching as case after case passes. I see him, Nelson, grab his bag, and walk towards an older woman who I take to be his mother.

We make brief eye contact and just as we met, we part - a simple nod of understanding is exchanged, and we go our different ways.