Money

Although another trip through another airport into an economy seat on a full plane from Logan to Schiphol doesn’t figure into my idea of a good time, this send-off was leavened by a departure lounge visit from my daughter.  After the usual dancing around the immediate topics of papers due, courses anticipated, news and views, and fatherly grunts, there was – initiated by her – a moment of such extraordinary closeness that overwhelmed me – us both, I think – with fellow feeling.  Arms gripped, faces wet past utch either’s shoulder, sterna pulsing together as if they would blend.

So full was I of love for her – always, but seldom does it surface with such force – that I forgot completely what I usually do at the end, as a substitute sop for real love: give her money.  I got on the plane with a full heart and full wallet, and she went her way back along the lines of the mass transport of Boston, no richer in her pocket, but God! I hope she took some of that fullness with her.

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