There is a moment once I get into the plane for that last leg when I visit my parents, where I’m settling into my seat, the Hawaiian musak is playing, and visions of the Islands loop on the screen. My shoulders relax, my back settles down. For many of us, there is a comfort to going to your parents home. You can’t go home again, but you can visit. It’s a feeling I haven’t had in a while.
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