Sometimes I wonder what it must be like to get off the plane knowing that after seven days together, her son is headed to a home and a life that isn't hers. What does it feel like to know that in a few short hours she'll be exchanging daily contact with her child for daily thoughts of him?
In those moments, as I wait anxiously for his return to the home and life he shares with me, I feel sorry for her. What must it be like to fit your life with a much-loved child into the hours of every other weekend? I see him nearly every day. His toys and baseball cards are in my home, his shoes litter my doorway, his laundry is in my washer. Even so I feel the years flying by. Though I sometimes try to understand it, I cannot imagine what it would feel like to be in her position.
She doesn't speak to me and she certainly doesn't care what I think. But I feel sad that she is missing all of this time with the boy we once called ours. I can only hope that there is consolation in the fact that it was her choice.