Friday, March 18, 2011


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.

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