For days we rehearsed the words. “Where we going Wednesday?” “To Wales,” Havana would reply. “How we getting there?” “By Airplane!” she’d reply. Finally she got it. Despite having virtually no concept of any distance of time beyond the immediate, she figured that we were eventually going to Wales and we would be getting there on an airplane.
I knew it had seeped in when she got concerned after I informed her that all three of us would be sleeping on the plane. She responded with a little furrow on the brow asking, “but who’s going to drive the plane?”
