It was a perfect January afternoon for flying.
We gave ourselves plenty of time – the drive to the airport from my dad’s place is not a long one.
We stopped at First Watch for brunch, and talked longer than most of the patrons in the place as we lingered over hot mugs. We were wanting to grasp every moment we could before we said “Farewell!” and “See you later!” but never “Goodbye.”
We laugh about it every time we do this.
My Grannie, Dad’s mother – she hated partings in the worst way. She would steel herself and pull you up to the curb, and not making a big deal about it would say “In this family we don’t do goodbyes, so have a safe flight and call me when you land.” She didn't even get out of the car to hug you. That was my Grannie.
I swear, I can still hear her voice. And somehow, I think she can still hear ours.
I swear, I can still hear her voice. And somehow, I think she can still hear ours.