It is very, very, very quiet in my tiny house. It was a great visit, though there were several deviations from the original plan. Now, my Aussies have left for their next adventure.
We have a tradition at the leaving. When we get to PTI Airport, I stand and watch as they go through the security check, then we press our hands to the glass as they pass down the hallway. Next, I run around to watch them walk down the long, long hallway toward their gate calling, “Good-bye. I love you! Thanks for coming! Safe travels.”
They turn and wave to me, calling, “Good-bye!” as far as I can hear them. I wave back. They walk, turn, wave. I wave back. Then I can’t see them anymore, and I go to my car and cry really hard.
This year, I had company. My youngest sister joined in the good-byes, and frankly, she was a bigger mess than I was. Sorry, Paige, but you were. We just went to a seat at the airport and cried together.
It is hard to see them go. They live so damn far away. Where is the fairness in that?
So, as much as my heart sang at their arrival, I was just that sorrowful at their departure. My little dog, Hattie, was just as sad, and she’s looked for those boys for days. She looks like I feel.
But aren’t we all just SO very lucky to have each other in our lives?