I survived a few more “firsts” this week.
My first flight since our May vacation before you died.
You had gone to the Olentangy prom the night before and our flight was leaving at 6:00 or 7:00 am – some crazy early hour that I had booked because I wanted every minute possible on vaca as a family. You slept on my shoulder the whole way there. I was uncomfortable but I didn’t move. No way was I giving up a second of my 18 year old baby resting on me.
I lived through seeing my first palm tree. Remember it was always our contest ever since you were little? Flying into Orlando and scanning the surface for the first palm tree while we were about to land? I know you were too old for that the last couple of trips we took but you still played along – sort of. I didn’t look out the window of this flight… I’m south so I knew they were out there. But I didn’t look. I saw my first one as the shuttle bus drove us to the French Quarter. It wasn’t a very pretty one and it was in an odd place. Wedged underneath a low overpass. Alive but all brown.
So now I’m officially on my first vacation. I’m grateful to be somewhere you’ve never been. And I will have a great time. But you’re still here. I take you everywhere.
I love you baby.