As I was waiting for my flight home,
a girl and her mother stepped off their
plane and into the terminal. The girl
stretched her arms out in front of her face
as far as she could, then cried out, “We’re
in another airport!”

Her mother took her left hand and said,
“Where do you think planes went,
to our house?” “Yes!” the girl proclaimed.
She waved her right hand over her head.

“No,” her mother said, and she led her daughter
away from the gate and toward the baggage
claim. The girl continued to wave with her
right hand, her palm straining toward the sky.
I waved to her, but she was walking too
far ahead and looking far too high to see me.


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