Come Fly With Me?

JCP_9824Kellan hopped a flight early this morning for another business trip.

I knew we’d reached a new point in our marriage when last night, my sweet husband glanced up from his football game and offered, “Hey honey, if you want to you could take me to the airport in the morning.”

I stared at him blankly, waiting for the punch line.

If I want to. What, so we can eek out a couple of last, precious moments of togetherness at dark thirty AM? When we already LIVE in the same house? Why would we do that?! I DON’T UNDERSTAND THE WORDS THAT ARE COMING OUT OF YOUR MOUTH.

It’s a cosmic shift from our dating days, during which I was rather infamous for showing up at the airport with carefully curled hair and a wildly beating heart AN HOUR AND A HALF before his flight had even landed, out of sheer excitement that Kellan Dickens was coming to see me.

Which, of course, my amused boyfriend always discovered at the parking stand as I calculated how much plasma I would have to sell to pay for my airport stay. It’s hard to play it cool when you’re paying eleventy billion dollars for half a day at the airport.

Those parking meters are such tattle tales.

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