I was up early again. Not as early as last August, but still early. Back to the weird place, the regional wormhole where people you love and care about and feel connected to go to disappear and go fly through the air at hundreds of miles an hour in a long, sleek metal tube with wings and then reappear days later with stories about other realities (“cities,” “flyover country,” etc.).
I saw her off for a few days and waited and watched her wander through security and smile and show her documents and shuffle the baskets around and put her belongings through the X-ray machine. And she’ll be back soon.