Sunrise, sunrise, looks like morning in your eyes.

Another one bites the dust.

Same time?

Vegetable quiche, grits with butter and sugar, decaf.

He comes out from behind the wall and says he doesn’t want to go into the bathroom by himself. He says his grandad is working and told him to go by himself. I ask him where his grandad is. He points to the end of the airport at a rental car station. I ask him how badly he needs to go. Really bad, he says. He looks like he is only 4 or 5 years old. I wonder if his grandfather will be mad if he goes into a bathroom with a woman he doesn’t know. But the kid looks a little panicked. I tell him I will take him into the women’s bathroom with me. Just as we start to walk in, I realize there is a family restroom - one single bathroom with a full door that locks. I show it to him. He thanks me. I tell him to lock the door and go straight to his grandpa when he’s done. I feel like I should stay.

He calls to tell me about his touchdowns. I can hear the joy in his voice.

Back to the lookout. It is clearer than yesterday, and you can really see the curves of the river and the flat tops of the mountains.

Fried green tomatoes. No pimento cheese.

Two margaritas and four strikes.

Tired but happy.