Must’ve Never Met You

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The late flight to Oakland.

The quiet flight. 

Extra space and no one beside me.


This.


This is the flight where I’ll find time to write.


Listening to Luke Combs.


Just loud enough I can hear him sing about a Beer Can... Memories... some other stuff.


*Shrugs


I bought the album on a whim. 


I do that kind of thing. 


I hear a song I like and I take a chance on the whole album.


Something to entertain me on these flights. 


More than the norm as late. 


More trips,


More people,


More getting to know,


Learning,


More climbing,


On an airplane,


Into the sky. 


I think of my babies.


Alana, always aloof as I walk out the door.


Sayler, sometimes with a few tears in her eyes. 


“Don’t say “gone””, she pleads, as I assure her “I’ll only be gone for 2 days.... back before your soccer game on Saturday...”


I know she’ll be okay. 


Better than okay.


Sayler is many things.


Resilient.


Independent.


Loving. 


Confident and funny. 


The other night she realized, and shared with us, that if you remove the “r” in her surname it spells “bich” and she just thought that was devilishly funny. 


And we thought it was pretty funny too (while also telling her that it wasn’t that funny). 


And Alana,


Aloofy Alana....


She says “bye mama” to me as I walk out the door.  Sometimes blowing me a kiss. Sometimes indulging me in an *actual real life human kiss.  Then turns back to something more interesting on Lloyd’s phone. 


I smile.


I am glad that, for now, only one of my daughters understands time. 


Only one makes “a chart” to track how long I’ll be gone. 


As I depart, watching my city fade away from view, I wonder how much the travel wears on me. 


Does it?


Yes, it does.


I wonder what I would do if I didn’t travel as often.


What kind of job.


What kind of satisfaction of doing something well. 


What kind of relief of knowing I can help provide for my family. 


I wonder. 


We climb. 


Keep climbing. 



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