Author: Jay HoneckJay Honeck
Date: May 21, 2008 21:50
I was sitting on a Mississippi River levee this evening, eating a big piece
of home-made pecan pie, watching a tugboat struggle against the current, and
pondering life.
We had flown here in Atlas, our Cherokee Pathfinder -- a flight that took a
whopping twenty minutes. We'd made the flight a hundred times, over the
last eleven years -- it's out default
"rather-go-somewhere-than-fly-the-pattern" flight -- but every now and then
something made it different.
Tonight was different.
We had flown there as a flight of two, with close friends. They had brought
their baby and toddler with them, while we had flown with our daughter, who
has been flying with us since birth. The evening was sublime, with the sun
a low, glowing orb in the sky. The flight had been wondrous.
Instead of eating dinner, we had decided to pick up homemade pies from a
favorite restaurant, milk from a convenience store, and take everything down
to a riverside park. It was decadent and unhealthy, and the kids loved it.
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