When she was wee, back when we still lived in Washington, D.C., one of my favorite things to do was take my daughter to the National Air and Space Museum. She was infatuated with Amelia Earhart’s plane.
Infatuated with the plane and frustrated with me because I couldn’t adequately explain what happened to her.
People don’t just disappear, dad. She must have thought I was an idiot.
This afternoon, Georgia graduates from high school, just like thousands of young people this week.
By now I hope she has come to accept that I don’t have all the answers.