Of Miles Rausch

The idea was to get her to fall asleep. Ainsley was tired; we all were. Weather had delayed our flight, the final flight from Cleveland back to Sioux Falls, for at least an hour Ian was content to re-watch Frozen yet another time, whereas Ainsley, at 20 months, wasn’t so easily placated. I got her into the stroller and pushed on.

“Let’s see what’s going on,” I said, and we joined the throng.

Continue reading “You’ll Be Selling Popcorn at the Airport”