Our plane bumps along in the sky as we fly towards California. I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. I remind myself to relax.
Across the isle, as toddler squeals and claps his hands with delight. I open my eyes to see him turning the pages and pulling the levers in his pop-up book. With his mom and dad tending to his every whim, he is oblivious to the bumpy airplane ride. It’s perfect. I reach for the hand beside me and close my eyes again.
It’s Father’s Day. I think about my boys. As my plane heads towards the west coast, BoBo’s heads towards the east coast. Meanwhile, YaYa packs his things in preparation of his return home after a week of camp.
As I think of the boys, I wonder if I should mention the day, or wait for them to. I wonder if, at age 11 and 18 years old, it is still possible to distract them with a pop-up book of sorts to shield them from the bumps en route.
