After dropping Abby, Isaac and Brady off with Adam's parents yesterday evening, we returned home and got up before the sun to catch our long-awaited flight to Kaua'i. Just the two of us. It's the first time that we've had a getaway involving just us since a friend got married when Abby was 11 months old. And the time before that? Our honeymoon, almost 10 years ago. We were, to be terse, quite overdue.
The frustration of having our original seat assignments wiped out was erased when we found ourselves in the coveted exit row, and the trio of small boys behind us were stunningly well-behaved. I sat playing a game on my iPad as the plane ascended. It was quiet. It was calm. The hum of the engine nearly lulled me to sleep. And then, after we'd been airborne for an hour or so, I heard it:
Mommy, I promise I'm fine. Really, I'm fine.
When I first heard that voice, I quickly convinced myself that I'd imagined it and went back to my game. But then it came back again, repeating those same words, and the tears just... came. Out of nowhere at all, it seemed, until I was almost completely overcome with emotion.
I poked Adam and told him I think Heaven is... and I looked out of the window... UP. And he said he'd been wondering the same thing.
I don't know why I felt like I did or why my sense of Logan was so strong on that airplane, but I do know that I felt closer to him than I have since he passed away. I felt like he was up there somehow. Like somehow, we were passing through his home and he took the time to say hi.
And I know that no matter how many wonderful things we see while we're here, those minutes high over the ocean will remain my best memory of all.