She parked her little Chrysler on the side of the street next to the airport terminal so she could watch the planes come in and go out. She came here every single week. Sometimes she cried and other times she just watched. Many years ago airports held nothing but excitement for her for they usually promised vacation memories or family gatherings. Those happy connotations were forever replaced with a more negative one when her husband died in a plane crash. They’d been married for thirty-seven years. She had nightmares about crashes for the first year after he was gone and she would sometimes break down just watching the planes high in the sky on a clear day. So she forced herself to come here and deal with the pain, the grief, the memories. After a while it became an important part of her life. She needed to come here just to see and hear and feel it all. Sometimes she’d bring her daughter and her grandson here and they’d have picnic dinners but most of the time she just went alone. She was there to be with him in her memories.