By the time noon rolled around, we were just finishing up our breakfast-for-lunch.

The bags were by the door, we were freshly showered, and were even all sexy-ed out.

All we had to do was make it to the airport, that was a ten minute drive away, on time.

Punk and I loaded the bags into the back of Bec's Ford Taurus.

I could hear Rosie throwing a fit inside the house.

The poor girl wasn't allowed to go any where.

It wasn't a bad idea.

Newark was a dangerous place.

And really, where the hell would a two-year-old go?

She did, however, have a tendency of walking away from people and getting lost.

I left Punk outside, and went to see the little girl.

She reminded me so much of my sister, it almost hurt.

I couldn't understand how a child from my friend, could look so much like my dead sister, and act like my twin?

I hated leaving her.

I walked through the door, and her tear stricken face was pressed against the hard wood floor.

It was the classic baby-breakdown position.

I walked over to her, and poker her side with my foot.

"Quit crying." I said as she looked up at me, doing just that.

She stood and I picked her up.

She wrapped her arms around my neck and didn't let go.

"Babe, we got to go." Punk said as he came through the door from the cold outside.

Even at noon time it was still cold as shit.

At Punk's words, Rosie's grip tightened, but I pulled her from me.

She sat there, in my arms, scowling at me.

"I'll be back in a few weeks."

Her eyes started to well up again.

"Don't cry."

She took a deep breath, and calmed down.

"I have to go now. I want you to go and watch some Dora, and be good for mommy and daddy, alright?"

She nodded, still holding a scowl on her face.

Giving me another big squeeze, and a big kiss, my favorite baby let me put her down and walked into the living room to drown her sorrows in Mexican television.

I gave Jakie and hug and a kiss on the cheek, then Punk, Bec and myself, headed to the car.

–

"Is that kid always so intense?" Punk asked as we were sitting on the plane waiting to lift off.

Two things were chomping at my mind, leaving home, and the lapse in evolution that forced humans to be ground dwelling creatures.

I knew he was trying to get my mind off leaving my makeshift family.

"Ha, yeah. She's always been like that. And she's two!" I smiled remembering some of my favorite Rosie meltdowns.

But it wasn't like I was never going to see her again.

So I decided to change the subject.

"I was thinking of getting a new tattoo." I started, interest instantly peeked in Punk's face.

I smiled.

"Oh, do tell." His words made me realize one crucial fact.

I didn't want to tell him about my secret love.

"You're not allowed to laugh. Or even comment on it. You just hear it, then forget it. Ok?"

He cocked a brow, but nodded all the same.

I took in a deep breath, and revealed to him a secret love I'd had since I was a kid.

"It's a butterfly..." I started, gauging his initial reaction.

"Really?" he said, after the few second of shock wore off.

"Since when do you like butterflies?"

I shrugged.

"Since I was little. I just never told anyone, because I thought it was lame."

Sensing my embarrassment, Punk asked a different question.

"What does it look like?"

I whipped out the barf bag from next to me, and the pen from in my carry-on bag.

I drew out the design I had in mind.

It wasn't an actual butterfly like the whores around town would get.

It was more like a black outline of one.

"Where are you going to get it?"

I pondered for a moment.

That was one thing I hadn't decided yet.

"I'm not sure yet. Either my neck or my hand." I said, pointing to each place.

If it were on my neck, it would start just below my chin, and extend all the way to my collar bone.

If it were on my hand, it would go on the small chunk of skin around my thumb and forefinger.

"The next thing I have to figure out is when I'm going to get it, if I do."

"Why not get it today?"

I could understand the confusion on Punk's part.

He didn't know that I usually got my tattoos at the same place.

In Jersey.

"Well, all the others I have I got in Jersey. I kind of don't want to wait, but I don't want to break the tradition."

"How about this" Punk started after a few moments.

"Since I know how you feel about getting tattoos at home, how about we go together. Tonight. You get your butterfly,"

I could see him physically repress laughter.

I just glared as he finished.

"and I'll get something."

I pondered it for a moment.

It didn't sound half bad.

"Alright. That sounds good. Now all I have to do is decide if I'm getting it on my neck, or my hand."

"I think I can help with that." Punk said, leaning down to kiss my neck.

Well then.

I think I just decided.