IN GRATITUDE: People are mortal yet what we do lives on forever

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.