Pursuing Happiness (1/1)

Happiness is simple. He created it only by a warm kiss on the side of my face while waking me up from my deep sleep. It was still 4 o'clock the morning, and he had been ready for work. He would fly his favorite 747-400 to Los Angeles that morning. He was a very detail person. He checked his luggage at least twice before zipping it up, and made sure nothing was left behind. He then had a quick shower while I got off on the bed and prepared his uniform. He loved this job, becoming a leader of a flight that brought hundreds of people acrossing the continent in a luxury giant iron bird. He let the whole passengers to give all their confidence on him and gave them the memorable sky trip experience. At least as one of the unforgettable trips they might have. And he kissed me on the cheek once more before we parted. At the front door of our apartment, in the morning before the sun moved up into the sky, he hugged me tightly before letting go of my hand with a big smile. "I'll see you next week," he said softly. His flight schedules separated us until next week. And the day when he came back, I might no longer be at home. I, too, had some places to travel as my job oughted me to. Always so. * * * We had quite a long way through the life together. Year after year went by so fast for my longing to the days where we could meet and had our holiday, which was very little coming days. I know marrying a pilot means preparing for his always leaving, the always worried for my pounding heartbeat each time I waited for him to be home, the always praying he would return safely as he landed his aircraft. I think he also had the same desire, when not only I who was waiting for him. I knew he missed me so bad when I was gone. At least once a week my job had me traveling abroad, settling some country' diplomacy affairs, mediating some bilateral agreements, or facilitating the activities of goverment people on a visit out of Korea. Aircraft cabin had been like my second home. And what I like the most was how he sometimes made the journey felt like being in a comfortable first home--it was in his heart. Sometimes he lied. He deliberately did it to give me surprise, a little thing he occasionally did just to tease on me. It began with our conversation on the phone when we were separated in thousands of miles distant, he always had a reason to tell me his flight schedule was moved to a different destination, but always ended up where I was sitting. He made ​​me not notice it. He did not stand to greet the passengers during boarding, and letted me know when the pilot captain cleared the aisle's from walking as the iron bird moved the runway for takeoff. I then realized when all of a sudden his voice was in the main speakers throughout the cabin. There was time when I was very concentrated with the unfinished ambassador 's speech I prepared, so that I did not hear his voice or his greeting, until he got out from the cockpit and said hi to me himself. I particularly love his voice, and he knows it. The voice that made ​​me fall in love with his anonymous figure even before he appeared in front of my eyes many years ago, and he greeted the passengers with a distinctive, always the same tone. It was friendly. It was entertaining even he just he talked about the current aircraft altitude above the air, about the weather, about the sky visibility, or the meal we would enjoy during the trip. The tone was uncommon to make the passengers sat on my right side or my left grew in big smiles and shook their head in amusement. "Captain Cho has a great sense of humor." Said an American man who once sat next to me, commenting. "He once casted for a comedian, and he failed. That's why he now becomes a pilot." I said at the time, and heard him chuckle. And the little surprise never ended there. After a few hours passed, he came out of the cockpit for a walk to straightened his legs, and he always stopped to say hello. He would bend his knees next to my seat, talking to me with his quasi-mysterious style, then he letted all the passengers in first class knew that I belonged to him. "My beautiful wife," A phrase he always said to answer the questioning stares of people for his intimate manner. He said this with the same tone, the same proud smile, my favorite expression. He always made ​​me feel loved every time, anytime, anywhere, and under any circumstances. We sacrificed a lot to be able to complete each other. I remember the first time he told me that Asiana Airlines asked him to work with them, for a month I tried to convince the Korean embassy to the State of Qatar in order I to be transported to Seoul, so I could live with him. We were two human beings with very difficult-to-put-together jobs, but married couples should stay together, right? And we desperately defended this togetherness, outsmarted our work schedules, and thoroughly counted the days to get to spend our time together. I was happy to live with him. We were a very happy couple in our moment together. But over time, it turned out that happiness asked not just mere togetherness. We were enjoying breakfast at a cafe on the side of the Hudson River in New York City one morning. I couldn't stop looking at small children running and playing around, not far from our table sat. He realized what I was thinking. He understood my longing for children, for babies to make me smile wide with a twinkle in my eyes. I was sure he knew what I wanted, it's just that he never said anything about it. "Those kids are so cute, aren't they?" Said I at the time. Someone should start a discussion of this topic, the thing we would not talk about if I didn't do it myself. He turned to look at the children, added creamer in his coffee and nodded while sipping the cup after a while. "They are." He said with short answer, then smiled and bit his croissant. "Do you think our kid will be that cute too?" He scratched his temple. Throwing his eyes to glance toward the children, then lent out his hand to hold mi