My daughter is in California. She flew all the way out there, all by herself. She’s done this a lot; it’s nothing new.

My daughter is grown up. She’s older than some of YOU. She’s a competent traveler. She loves to travel, in fact.

She’s called several times. She got there without a hitch. She’s having a great time. She’ll be home tomorrow. She’s been gone nine days.

I knew all along it would be fine; it always is. I’m not worried, no, not a bit. I often write in short, choppy sentences; it has nothing to do with concern.

My daughter is an adult.

So how come I am picturing these faces, on a plane, alone?