copyright the Chronicle January 18, 2017
By Paul Lefebvre
The thought of making a will occurred to me soon after I booked a flight to Havana. Actually, the thought had been trailing me around for the last few years, but I had done nothing about it. Maybe, I told myself, a four- to five-hour flight to an island off the Florida coast ruled by aging revolutionaries who had recently lost their leader will stir you into action.
True to form, I did nothing until the hour was too late. So as I stood with Calamity at the boarding gate and looked through one of the banks of windows that line the Trudeau Airport at Montreal and watched an airplane belonging to Sun Wing — a Canadian airline and tourist company I had never heard of — roll into loading position, I could feel the fear building deep in the well of my stomach.
Thoughts of what would become to my house and hunting camp were rumbling through my head as we taxied down the runway. I waited until the plane’s landing wheels receded before turning away.
“You never should have reserved a window seat,” I thought, as we became airborne and a stewardess began to demonstrate how to put on the life vest stuck away under every passenger seat, in the event we crashed into the ocean. I was among those who clapped when the airplane landed in Cuba.
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