mom put me on the plane in Boston. My dad’s meeting me in San Francisco.”
Then he admitted quietly,
“I don’t like when the airplane shakes.”
“Neither do I,” Grandma said.
Oliver looked surprised.
“You don’t?”
“No. But my husband used to repair airplanes. He taught me that turbulence is like driving over bumps in a road. The airplane is built to handle them.”
“Did he fix this airplane?”
Grandma looked out the window.
“Maybe.”
Then she smiled.
“Maybe he did.”
I watched the two of them for another minute.
