I hate airplane napkins. In this age of going green and complementary beverage service only, what is the reinvented purpose of the cocktail napkin?
Until a recent flight, my cocktail napkin primarily served to decorate my tray table before being returned to the stewardess, unused.
But there I was, 36,000 feet over the Arizona desert and the thought came to me: she never flew in an airplane. "She" was my sister, Lu-Lu, who despite physical beauty, a kind heart and an intelligent mind, none of us could save from the tortures of depression.
After a decade-long struggle, at the age of 24, she ended her life. Fifteen years have passed since that phone call came on a Thursday afternoon, and I am not the same 22-year-old who answered.
The passage of time has healed me, yet moved my life forward in directions she never knew and away from moments I want to cling to, relinquish and revise, all at once.