For the past few days, anytime someone in my family has done something that usually bothers me, it hasn’t. My father’s audible nasal breathing at the breakfast table, or my mom making the till downstairs with the loud coin-sorting machine, none of it has bothered me anymore. When they happen, I think of how it’ll be their last occurrence in my vicinity, and I smile internally.

I can’t wait to be pressed against the seatback as the airplane accelerates down the runway.