Flying at night was so different than flying during the day. It was an obvious fact if you stopped to think about it but so few people did. That was probably because most people weren’t pilots. If you were flying by instruments it didn’t change too much about how you navigated. Most of the time it wasn’t really that much different than driving a car while using GPS navigation. It was in the simpler, usually older, planes that night flying became so different. No longer where there so many visual landmarks to guide you and no digital displays to reveal what the dark kept hidden. Now there were lights, like lighthouses, positioned along the flight paths that would guide your way. You had to know them well enough that you didn’t get fooled into following some random light that was close but not quite the right one. A simple deviation off the right course could have significant consequences after not that many miles.

As Carlyle navigated his Cessna 210G Centurion along the west coast, heading north from LA to Seattle, the dark ocean stretched out on his left while the land on his right was speckled with tiny lights. This was one of his favorite night flights, in large part due to the obvious split in the terrain. Turbulence could be an issue this close to the coast but tonight the air was calm. A perfect night for flying.

In years past he would have had passengers with him but tonight he flew alone. The old, empty seats were well worn. He laughed to himself as he remembered the many times he’d flown with his wife and two boys. If people thought long drives were hard with kids, they should try flying. There was no pulling over when someone got motion sick, and the tight interior meant that getting back there to help clean up the sick was all but impossible. That had been, fortunately, a rare occurrence for his children. No, the real issue he’d had with his boys was when they inevitably got on each other’s nerves and started fighting. The Centurion was large enough that the weight of two boys moving around didn’t matter too much, but in a smaller aircraft they could have tipped the plane with their wrestling. No amount of shouting ever worked to calm them down, either, since they knew it was all empty threats. Carlyle had to stay flying the plane and his wife, Sue, refused to get between the boys when they were wrestling. Once they landed, though, that was when they got in trouble and had to spend the next few hours helping to clean and maintain the plane while Carlyle watched.

Those were the good old days. Summers spent camping by a mountain lake that they reached via a borrowed seaplane. Winter breaks in the tropics, hiking through the jungle and calling out to the monkeys they could always hear but rarely see. The freedom to go wherever they wanted, whenever they wanted. That was what his planes had been for him. Freedom.

His sons would say it was money that let them do those things, and that thought made him scowl. There were plenty of wealthy people who didn’t know how to fly, didn’t travel, didn’t…Those were all the old arguments he’d made to his sons and the bitter taste they left in his mouth made him abandon the train of thought. His sons didn’t appreciate what he’d given them, the opportunities they had because of him. At least, that was what he liked to tell himself. A part of him knew they had a point. How many poor people did you meet at the aviation club? None, and money was as good a reason for it as anything. Flying was many things but one thing it wasn’t was cheap.

Sue had never complained about the expense. He’d worked hard for the money he brought home and she’d let him have his hobby, expensive or not. Thinking about her made Carlyle turn and look at the other empty seat, the one right beside him. She was never comfortable controlling the plane herself but she always insisted on sitting in the copilot’s seat. Maybe if he’d let the boys sit up front one of them would have become a pilot too. Too late now.

“The boys turned out alright,” he sighed to himself as he turned his gaze back forward. “Both are good to their wives, both have good kids, and both work hard to support their families.”

He sat in relative silence, only the noise of the engine and the air blowing past, glancing at the empty copilot seat from time to time.

“I sure miss you, Susie,” he sighed. “Haven’t flown for a while…not since you left. Didn’t seem right not to fly with you.”

The next set of lights marking his way were coming up and he compared his flight path and fuel gauge. Everything checked out and his thoughts turned back to Sue.

“Boys were worried about me doing this night flight alone,” he said after a while. “Thought I’d be at risk of falling asleep.”

He chuckled and looked out at the stars, the ocean, and the land. How could anyone fall asleep with this view to keep them awake? Maybe that’s why neither boy ever became a pilot. They didn’t appreciate the views. Of course, they’d spent most of their flights wrestling in the back so maybe the fault was his own for never taking them up alone with him so they could enjoy the view unimpeded.

There were too many regrets to list, and yet Carlyle didn’t let them bog him down too much. No one was perfect and everyone his age probably had a mountain of regrets just as large as his own. Maybe larger for all he knew. No use fretting over what he could have or should have done. Just do your best and keep on moving.

That’s what he was doing. Sitting alone at home wasn’t doing him any good, and it wasn’t as if he had anything else going on, so he’d planned out the trip and left. A few days in Seattle would do him some good. He loved the city and there was plenty for him to do there and distract himself with. Then he could go back home and finish cleaning up…finish packing away…finish everything that needed to be done now that the funeral was over.

“It’s not that I don’t love your things,” he said to the empty copilot seat. “I’ll keep some of them. I just don’t need…most of it. Clothes.”

He chuckled.

“What would I do with all your clothes? No, better to let someone else find a use for them. And I don’t need so many chairs. You always loved your chairs. I’ll keep the recliner and the wood carved one you bought last summer but the others can probably go. I’ll ask the boys if they want any of them. And you left me at least fifty pounds of knitting to sort through. I think I’ll take the neighbor lady up on her offer and let her take it all. Let it be her mess to sort through. I’m sorry about Didi but you know I was never a dog person. The kids down the lane seem to be enjoying her, though.”

He flew on in silence once again, fussing about the dog. Didi never did like him much and without Sue around the dog had been miserable.

“I can finally get that cat I’ve always wanted,” he teased, though he’d never really do it. “Train it to fly with me and all that. Put a litter box in the back of the plane. Yeah, I’m sure that wouldn’t smell to high heaven and make a mess the first time I hit rough air. I’m sure cats love being in crates for hours on end, too, just like dogs.”

Didi hated flying and after a single flight, Sue had agreed to put Didi in a boarding kennel for their subsequent trips.

“The boys want me to stop flying, you know? Told me right after I said I was going on this trip. Well, I keep passing my health exams so there’s nothing they can do to stop me. Don’t know what I’ll do when I really do have to stop flying. Can’t imagine hanging up my wings.”

Even when he wasn’t going on a trip it wasn’t uncommon for Carlyle to just go and fly circuits around the airport. The views were always great and it was peaceful up there. Far better than sitting at home with nothing but the television to keep him company. He’d learned real quick these last few months how much he hated watching television. He’d been patient with it, since it was all Sue could really do, and he wanted to be there for her, but he hated how he felt time and life just slipping him by when he could be out on a walk, or flying his plane, or doing any number of other things. An occasional show was fine, but the hours upon hours of nothing but television was too much for him.

“It isn’t even television anymore,” he barked. “It’s all on the streaming and pluses. It’s like cable but more confusing because there’s no channels. You have to know what you’re looking for otherwise it’s a mess. I guess the kids have it all figured out, and even you seemed to know your way around it but I don’t have the patience for it.”

Without meaning to, Carlyle fell into a silence that remained for the rest of the flight. It wasn’t the same, without the companionship, but it was still a beautiful flight. It wasn’t as bad as he’d feared, and he even enjoyed his time in Seattle. That’s what they said of him when his sons came to collect him. His last flight home was not as the pilot, but as a passenger. It was a mercy, many said, that Sue and Carlyle weren’t apart for long. That Summer, both his sons started flight training.