I'm somewhere high among white clouds between Copenhagen and Barcelona, on my way back home to the latter. Suspended at this altitude, I'm struck by a sentimental notion.

A short time ago, I said goodbye to my parents in front of the airport. They stood quietly, waving, while I disappeared into the building. I recall this picture. It's a picture filled with affection. Gratitude. I'm grateful. They know this. My actions speak volumes, to be sure, even though I do nothing.