Here are my boys, just before they boarded a flight to Atlanta to visit my parents. Henry was fake-glaring, and Oliver was fake-smiling.
Here we are just before they walked away from me and down that ramp and into the plane. It might not be evident, but just about then I started to feel super queasy. Before I leave my children, and whenever they leave me, I hug and kiss them, then tap them on their hearts and tell them I am in your heart, always, and you're in mine.
I know. Tears are welling up in my eyes, again.
You can't see them, but those pilots must have felt my eyes boring into them.
They waved, and I waved back and pointed to my heart and then back to them.
