I get her bag from the truck bed. I set it on the curb and when I turn around Jonah’s already gotten to her.
He has both arms around her waist and his face pressed into her stomach. Sadie's hand rests on the back of his head. She holds him there, her eyes closing briefly.
I stand with my hands in my pockets and look at the mountains over the terminal roof and give them a moment.
I've learned this morning that there are things that will torpedo every wall I've ever built, and watching my son saying goodbye to the woman he wants desperately to be his mother is one of them.
Then Sadie crouches down to Jonah's level. She takes his face in both hands, cupping his cheeks.
His chin is wobbling but he's holding it together with everything he has.
“I’m going to call you every single week,” she says. “And you’re going to tell me everything. About your new pony and school and every single crawdad you catch in that creek. Okay?”
His chin wobbles harder. “Okay,” he says.
“And I'm coming back for Thanksgiving.” She looks at him straight. “Christmas too.”
He nods.
“This isn't goodbye,” she says. “This is just see you later.”
Jonah nods again, jaw clenched, holding on. Then he reaches into his jacket pocket and comes out with a folded piece of paper, slightly crumpled. It’s clearly been in that pocket for a few days at least.
“I made you something,” he says. “So you don't forget us.”
Sadie takes it. Unfolds it carefully.
I lean over to look.
It's a drawing. The ranch, recognizable by our house and the mountains behind it, rendered in Jonah's carefulfive-year-old hand. Three figures standing in front of it. A tall one, a medium one, and a small one holding what I think is supposed to be a toy dinosaur.
Underneath, in the handwriting Sadie taught him, every letter deliberate:
OUR FAMILY
Sadie’s face crumples.
And I almost lose it too.
Our family.
Because that's what we are. That's what we became somewhere between June and now, and I’m standing here about to let it come apart.
Still breaking everything I touch, even when I’m trying like hell to do the right thing.
I look at the mountains again. I breathe.
Sadie pulls Jonah in and holds him hard, her face in his hair, and this time she doesn't try to keep it together for his sake. Jonah's arms come around her neck and he holds on just as hard.
When Sadie straightens up her eyes are wet.
We head inside the terminal. She only has her carry-on and one piece of luggage to check, and that breaks my heart. I want to give her the world, and yet all she has is a couple of measly suitcase.
There are so few things she’ll be taking with her to New York.
Everything else will be a memory.
After we get her bag checked, we all walk to the escalator, where we pause.
