As the plane bumps along the tarmac toward the gate, I reflexively reach for my phone and turn it on, eager to text my friends and let them know I’ve arrived. I said goodbye to my eight-year-old daughter and six-year-old son, who are busy chafing against routines, bedtimes, and each other. Subscribe: Apple | Spotify | RSS“I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t know what the plan is.”“Are they doing an autopsy?”“No. The second thought comes in the form of a question: Did Alan know I love him?
