The following morning at the airport gate, Emma held Buzz against her chest and stared at the huge plane through the glass.
They somehow helped her stay calm.
« Mommy, is that the one? » she asked.
« That’s the one, sweetheart. »
« And I get to see the clouds? »
I crouched down to her level.
« You get the window seat! Seven A. It’s waiting for you. »
My daughter smiled that small, careful smile she reserved for very big things, and my chest ached with how much I loved her.
« And I get to see the clouds? »
I glanced toward the counter.
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