It’s still a novelty to me. Being in the sky. Flying. Watching the world below. The airplane casting the tiniest blip of shadow from 40,000 feet through candy clouds. I’m flying with my mama, taking her to Florida for a little vacation. I’m immensely grateful she was granted leave by her doctor to have a warm getaway. Some happy normalcy in a year that has been anything but. Her smile comes fast and easily when our eyes meet. She’s so damn cute. Wearing her running shoes and pearls. You would never know of her struggles. Not by looking at her. Sun fills the jet and, for now, everything feels just like it was before cancer made its presence known. I’ve said it before, but we don’t appreciate the “normal ordinary” moments enough. They might be mundane and boring but they mean everything is ok. You’re not in crisis. You’re not diving into worry, stress, anger or sadness. You’re not feeling sick. You’re just living and breathing. Like normal. Or in my mom’s case, you’