“I want to go to San Francisco.”
I stared across the table.
“San Francisco?”
“To visit your mother.”
My mother had been living in California since before I was born.
I grew up in Oakland and moved back to Boston only when I started nursing school.
I remained there because Grandma was alone.
“You haven’t flown in decades,” I reminded her.
“Twenty-seven years.”
“Mom always comes here.”
“I know.”
“You told everyone you were never getting on another airplane.”
Grandma quietly continued eating.
“I changed my mind.”
Then she said,
“I want to leave March fourteenth. Flight 212. The morning flight.”
That made me stop.
“That’s extremely specific.”
“Yes,” she said.
It certainly was.
That night, I looked up the flight.
Flight 212 was still operating.
Boston to San Francisco.
Morning departure.
The aircraft had changed, but the flight number and route were the same.
I didn’t question her further.
I simply began putting money aside.
And when the day finally arrived, I purchased a first-class ticket for her.
Seat 3A.
I wanted her to have everything possible.
Room.
Comfort.
A proper meal.
A seat capable of reclining almost completely flat.
She was turning eighty and confronting something she had avoided for twenty-seven years.
I wanted the journey to feel special.
Then I purchased 3B for myself, right beside her.
Seeing the total made my stomach twist.
I charged it to my credit card anyway.
And now, standing at the gate, she had surrendered that expensive seat for 34A without a second thought.
“You’re upset,” Grandma said as we waited for boarding.
“I’m not upset.”
“You’re a little upset.”
“I’m confused.”
She held onto my arm as we moved forward with the boarding line.
She used a wooden cane now, topped with an old brass handle that had once belonged to her mother.
“That seat was comfortable,” I said. “You’d have room. You could rest. Now you’re going to spend six hours squeezed into economy.”
“I’ll survive.”
“The seats barely recline.”
“I don’t need them to.”
“Grandma.”
She gently patted my wrist.
“Sam, what you did for me was incredibly generous. I know how hard you worked for those tickets. I know every extra shift represented another piece of this trip.”
Her bright blue eyes held mine.
