It wasn’t today.
The plane took off.
Flew. Landed.
My brother arrived.
He drove us
through eight lanes of traffic
to a beautiful home
where it was so easy
to hug, to laugh,
to eat, to remember,
to relax, to not even
think that it
might have gone
another way, so easy
to smile, to give thanks.
Nice the way you meshed that title with the poem. And that the poem celebrates more than it worries.