Driving my adult son to the airport is something I like to do. For this brief interlude, it is just he and I. No cell phones, no distractions, no hidden agendas. On a good day JFK is a mere 15 minutes from home although those fifteen minutes can be indeterminately prolonged depending on the time of day, weather or any number of drivers suffering from an undetermined mixture of road rage and aggression.
This particular day, the sun was shinning, the sky was blue and all was right with the world. My son and I were both in good spirits and for once all button pushing behaviors evaded us. Tooling along the parkway we happily engaged in feel good conversations each immersed in the wonder and banality of the day. Without uttering a word we embraced the ease, comfort and warmth of each others company. As I watched his disappearing form make its way towards the terminal, a flood of emotions overcame me once again confirming, life is good.