Yesterday, 05:38 AM
The cockpit was a migraine of flashing lights --
Dad with his headset on, pointing at the jump seat
where Muhammed Ali sat on his way to Manila.
Dad had the voice of a hypnotherapist:
"This is your captain speaking...
when I count to three..."
His tone was more animated when I'd ring the nursing home.
He'd say he was staying in a hotel in Tokyo or Hong Kong
on a layover between flights.
I'd ask: "Where are you flying to next, Pops?"
He'd pause for a moment as if checking his roster --
"I'm landing in Sydney at zero seven hundred."
In those last months, with him in his cockpit
me on the jump seat, we crossed the globe together.
Dad with his headset on, pointing at the jump seat
where Muhammed Ali sat on his way to Manila.
Dad had the voice of a hypnotherapist:
"This is your captain speaking...
when I count to three..."
His tone was more animated when I'd ring the nursing home.
He'd say he was staying in a hotel in Tokyo or Hong Kong
on a layover between flights.
I'd ask: "Where are you flying to next, Pops?"
He'd pause for a moment as if checking his roster --
"I'm landing in Sydney at zero seven hundred."
In those last months, with him in his cockpit
me on the jump seat, we crossed the globe together.