I sit in the Hong Kong airport, and, somewhat hesitantly, open the folder of my photos of Patti. In the past, I avoided looking at these pictures unless I was willing to lose it, even wanted to lose it. I take a breath and I flip through the vacation pictures, the birthdays, Patti playing with Jack at three, at ten, at fifteen, hugging the dogs, hugging me.I feel a smile grow, seeing my love, my friend as she was, as she is, full of warmth and fun, all good memories, not sad or heartbreaking but there in me, warming me, keeping me company so far from home, just like she always has. I miss her like I would have done on long journeys past, thinking of how she would feel about what I’m doing now, what she would have thought of the curried noodle chicken soup I had at the airport cafeteria. “Ew, sounds goobery, honey,” she would have said. “Hurry home. I miss you.”I miss you too, Pandy, I miss you a lot, but the thought of you deep inside me will help me keep on, keep happy, keep living. Our love is forever, no matter what happens, and now I feel like I might just cry, here in the Hong Kong flight club.