She shouldn’t have had to carry grown-up worries.
She smiled and tucked the boarding passes into the front pocket of her backpack, the way she’d seen me do a hundred times. I’d paid extra for two adjoining seats with more legroom, a window seat for Lily and the aisle for Noah and me.
Sometimes I forgot how quickly Lily was growing up. I still saw the little girl who reached for my hand before crossing every parking lot. She was only ten. She shouldn’t have had to carry grown-up worries.
It cost more than I wanted to admit, but I needed the space, and I needed Lily close.
« Group four, boarding now, » the gate agent announced.
« That’s us, » Lily whispered, already standing straighter.
« Noah is more important than his schedule. »
We shuffled down the jet bridge, Noah’s tiny fingers curled against my collarbone. A businessman behind us huffed loudly when I paused to adjust the carrier, and my face flushed hot.
« Take your time, Mom, » Lily said, loud enough for him to hear. « Noah is more important than his schedule. »
I almost laughed. Ten years old, and she already had a spine I sometimes wished I could borrow.
