The Postscript: Fireworks in the morning

I start noticing the planes overhead when it’s nearing the time to go.

Planes don’t fly low over this small Mexican city. San Miguel de Allende doesn’t have its own airport, so the few planes flying overhead are high in the sky, headed off to somewhere else. I rarely notice them at all — until it’s time to leave.

Now I’m watching them leave a trail in the sky and wondering about the people inside. Are they happy to be going wherever they’re going? Are they sad to be leaving wherever they were?

After almost three months here, in our little apartment in Mexico, everything we do in the last week...