frightened child on an airplane.”
He turned toward me.
“You don’t know what they’ve survived. What they’ve lost. Or whose life they may have saved.”
My eyes filled.
“So when somebody slows you down,” Dad continued, “be patient. Especially when you’re in a hurry.”
I promised him I would remember.
Dad is eighty-two now.
He still completes crosswords in pen, still wins at cribbage, and still checks the front door twice before going to bed.
But airports don’t frighten him the way they once did.
Last spring, he flew alone
