“Have planes always been this claustrophobic?”
I have the aisle seat. Dani and the boys were across from me.
Four and six now, they’re sleeping, curled on the airline seat against their Mama.
No tears.
No kicking.
And no negotiating.
In three months, we’d have a third.
She looked up and waves.
“You should get some sleep.”
“Yeah. Good idea.”
I paused the audiobook I was listening to—a history of meditation and Buddhism—and close my eyes.
Then a passenger bumped me on his way to the bathroom.
The woman in the next row coughed.
Somewhere behind me a baby cried.
The man next to me overflowed his seat.
The smell of instant ramen clung to the dry air.
I thought I would’ve remembered this.
~
No better time than to practice.
I closed my eyes.
I focused on my breath.
Felt the air as it moves over my lips.
Let it pass.
Some time later, I open my eyes.
Eight hours to go.
I closed them again.