her purse.
“We’ll each keep one.”
“You keep his.”
“I’ll keep mine.”
Gene stood behind him.
“Would you like to see the cockpit before you leave?”
Grandma laughed.
“I’m eighty years old.”
“That sounds like a yes.”
She smiled.
“It is.”
Mom was waiting at baggage claim in San Francisco.
When she saw Grandma’s swollen eyes, she rushed toward us.
“Mom? What happened?”
Grandma put down her cane.
She placed both hands on her daughter’s face.
“I sat in his seat.”
Mom froze.
“34A,” Grandma said.
“I saw the mountains.”
