Not dramatic.
Not showy.
Not confrontational.
Just: juice.
Just: a small cup of juice and the acknowledgment that she had juice and then she didn’t.
Just: I’ve been flying for the very first time.
I thought about Edwin.
Edwin who had said he wanted to take her to see the ocean.
Edwin who would have been there beside her in the seat if the margins had materialized.
Edwin who was not here.
But Edwin who had raised her or helped raise her or loved her into the person who could sit in an airplane seat with arthritis in both hips, being told she was too old to travel, and come up with something that precise.
The flight landed two hours later.
We gathered our things.
The woman left without speaking.
She had been very quiet for the rest of the flight.
She had used a great many paper towels.
