I already had something better planned.

I booked a seat on her final flight.

I imagined staying hidden until she reached my row.

Maybe ordering champagne after landing.

Maybe embarrassing her with one of those little anniversary cards cabin crews sometimes pass around.

Nothing enormous.

I simply wanted to be there when the part of her life that had taken her away from me thousands of times finally brought her home for good.

At the gate, I felt absurdly excited.