I Cried in Airport Security Tonight . . . Because of a Five-Year-Old

MARCH 11, 2026 | TORONTO PEARSON AIRPORT

Tonight I cried in airport security at Pearson airport. Not because anything went wrong.

Because of a five-year-old girl.

I was in the international security line juggling the usual airport choreography of laptops, bags, and plastic bins when I noticed a mother and daughter ahead of me wearing matching tracksuits. The little girl looked about five. Together they were completely ADORBS!

I lost track of them while loading my things onto the belt.

By the time I stepped forward to go through the scanner, the mother was being sent back through security again. Her daughter had already crossed to the other side.

The security staff asked if I would mind waiting so the mother could go ahead of me when she came back.

Of course. No five-year-old should be standing alone at airport security.

A moment later the mother came jogging back through, a little flustered but smiling. The little girl ran straight into her arms.

Then she turned around. She touched her chest with both hands, spread her arms wide, and announced loudly to the security officers:

“I love you! I love you!”

Not shy. Not quiet. Just pure joy offered to a room full of strangers. I honestly couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

The whole line softened. People started smiling. Even the security officers laughed.

So touched, I said to her, “I love you too. And I love these people too.”

She lit up.

A few minutes later, as I walked through and gathered my bags, the mother and daughter were just ahead of me collecting theirs. The little girl turned back, looked straight at me and said again:

“I love you!” And I said, “I love you too. I love everyone here.”

And that’s when it got me.

Tears. Right there in airport security. Slightly embarrassing, but completely worth it.

I think it was because I was already carrying a lot tonight.

I’ve only been home from Camp Joy for four days. It was a beautiful week filled with connection, laughter, and the kind of conversations that only happen when women gather with intention.

And tonight I’m boarding an overnight flight to the UK to see my father. He has dementia. He’s not okay.

It’s one of those trips that carries a lot of emotion before it even begins.

But tonight, in the middle of airport security, a five-year-old in a matching tracksuit reminded an entire line of strangers what joy looks like when it’s completely unfiltered.

I'm crying again writing about it . . . i

n a good way :-)

I even called my sister, who’s still in Zihuatanejo enjoying a no-agenda vacation with her husband, just to tell her about it.

At Camp Joy we talk a lot about rediscovering joy. Tonight a five-year-old reminded me that sometimes joy doesn’t need to be rediscovered at all.

Somehow, I’m boarding this plane with a fuller heart than I had a few hours ago. Who knew a five-year-old in airport security would be the one to send me on my way like that?

Thank you, my little friend.

With love,

Monique