She still disliked airports, but her therapist helped develop a safety plan for future travel. She carried a card listing my telephone number, our address, and instructions to find uniformed personnel if we became separated.
For her tenth birthday, Emma asked whether we could visit the Monterey Bay Aquarium.
“Are you certain you want to fly?”
She thought about the question carefully.
“Yes, but we sit together.”
“Always.”
“What happens if they offer you a first-class seat?”
“I refuse it.”
“Even when it is free?”
“Especially when accepting means leaving you behind.”
At Phoenix Sky Harbor, she held my hand through security. When boarding started, her grip tightened, although she did not cry.
We boarded together and located our assigned seats in row seventeen.
After takeoff, a flight attendant noticed Emma staring at the curtain separating first class from the main cabin.
“Would you like to see the cockpit after landing?”
