I walk out of the air-conditioned terminal onto the tarmac. I watch the ocean breeze lift palm leaves. The sun soaks into my jeans that I wear for the first time in a week. It’s January and I’m on my way home, back to winter.  I walk up the stairs and find my husband, a few rows ahead of me. I scoot past two other passengers to the window, set down my backpack and lean back into the seat.  I think about the uninterrupted time with my husband. I know we’ll both recall the days our schedule matched the rhythm of the ocean. I picture this morning’s sunrise and feeling…