You know the worst part of airport security? It's not removing my shoes and realizing that I've forgotten to clean my toenails, or having some shmoo view all of the intimate items in my carry-on bag-- or worse, bring them out for the entire airport to view-- it's not even scalding my throat trying to guzzle down the hot tea I bought because I forgot I couldn't take it past the metal detector. I know, I know, it's all in the pursuit of safety-- but the worst part is that we can't, as a family, walk our boy to the gate and watch his airplane depart for England. It might make saying goodbye the teeny tiniest bit easier.
Goodbye Obo, skier of the lake, jumper of the wake, singer of Ga Ga, fan of all things poppity, boy who makes the air a little lighter, who finally brought us the sun.
We love you.