The Skyliner moved overhead, quiet and steady against a bright blue sky.
People passed us, excited, focused on getting in line. I stayed just off to the side, watching.
My daughter reached for her grandmother’s hand.
Not because she was scared, but because she didn’t want her grandma to be.
My mom didn’t say anything. She just adjusted her grip and stayed where she was. The gondolas kept moving above them, one after another, but the two of them stood still. They were calm and unhurried.
I watched it happen from a few steps back.
In a place built for motion, their stillness felt louder than anything around us.
That’s the kind of magic I never want to forget.
Not the ride.
Not the view.
But the moments when love quietly checks in and made sure no one had to do it alone.
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