It seemed that everyone who was going on this flight had shown up. Perhaps there were thirty. The new commuter plane hadn’t shown yet. The woman at the gate desk had said it should be very soon. Paul Smyth wondered how soon was soon. Anyway, the important thing was safety. The scheduled plane had been temporarily removed from service for further revision. Paul was glad that someone had displayed good sense.
“Oh Daddy, I’m scared.”
Paul looked at his daughter with that affectionate look everyone knew so well. “I know it’s not easy, honey, but you’re going to your cousin’s house, not to some foreign country.”
“Still, it’s my first time really away from home,” she said.
“You’re gonna do just fine, don’t worry. Think of the Dark Ages when there were no computers, no e-mail, no quick telephone calls. Can you imagine waiting months for a letter?”
“I can’t Daddy. I wouldn’t like it,” Susan answered.
“Well, we’ll be in touch every day or two. As often as you want. You’ll never be alone in this world as long as your mom and I are living.”
“I know that Daddy. I appreciate it. It’s important for me. I’m gonna miss you two though.”
Paul swallowed. Composure, he thought. Keep your composure or she certainly won’t.
“You’re gonna be too busy to miss us after the first two or three days. Once you make two or three friends, you’ll have no time for anything but them and study. Remember, college is very different from high school.”
“You sure we’re doing the right thing, Daddy? I guess I’ve asked you that a thousand times.”
“I’m sure, honey. This is where you begin building a life of your own. Still, any problem, however small, just let me know immediately.”
The notice for passengers to board was being announced. Paul hadn’t seen the new plane pull up, but there it was in full view.
Susan looked her dad in the eyes for a moment. “I love you, Daddy. Please tell mom I love her too.”
“She knows, honey.”
The two hugged briefly then Susan got her carry-on and began walking toward the gate desk leading to the plane.
Paul had his smile ready for he knew she’d turn once more to look back. Plus, he was keeping his eyes dry better than he’d thought possible. Still, as the woman of eighteen who used to be his little girl walked farther away, he could see the passage of each of those years waltzing there before his eyes. When he could see Susan no more, he turned and began walking toward the parking lot. Slowly, the way sad dads walked.
