We are descending.
Out the window I glimpse the brilliant city of San Francisco stretching out below us.
And then the plane turns and there is a flash of blue sky.
The wheels come out, squeaky and loud. Finley looks up at me with his big wide eyes.
I assure him it's okay, and he proceeds to suck his little finger.
He lays his other hand atop mine.
The wheels of the plane touch the ground just as I rest my chin on his head.
"Welcome to America my little man"