One last tour over the ocean.
Music is the navigator.
Overcast skies dissipate as we reminisce.
The record player hums and crackles in the dimly lit room.
A saxophone sits in the corner, still vibrant and warm, playing adversity through smiles and laughter.
A chill in the air reminds of nostalgia.
I look at the photograph as the plane soars overhead.
We look up and wave as the plane becomes a speck, a moment, a memory, along the edge of earth’s eye.
Where are you going?
I’m heading to Hoboken.