Every time I leave my family and fly solo for either business or pleasure, I think to myself at least once, this is how I go. The Buddhists say contemplating your own death on a regular basis makes you more compassionate and in touch with what actually matters, but for me it’s more about the illusion of control, because surely if I think it, it couldn’t actually happen, because that would just be too on the nose. Meanwhile, I live on the nose, I’ve built a home there. I overanalyze my departing and returning flights, run through worse case scenarios. This is how she went, pursuing her own selfish dreams, what was she doing up there, away from them, who does she think she is, why would she do it, why would she leave them, why would she go? The voices are coming from inside the house. I pull my seatbelt tighter, and Fly.