She and Me
I board a plane. I trek to a hotel. Do a meeting. Grab a meal. Board another plane. Then I come home. And waiting for me is this little angel with a devilish spirit. She’s the first to grab me around the waist and exclaim how much she missed me. She never lets me catch a breath. Still holding my bags, standing in the doorway, she plots an agenda for us. She croons about how glad she is that I’m home.
The same day, she has endured a dose of chemo and practiced her physical therapy. I gripe and sulk about sitting on a plane in the dry, dry air at 35,000 feet. She seldom gripes about fighting for her life.