Today, my son flew in for a six day visit from Reno, Nevada. He’s been gone eight months.
When I saw him at the airport, my heart fluttered. I didn’t realize how much I had missed him. When my son left for Reno, I was devastated, but happy that he was forging a new life. He’d been in a bad relationship and I was glad to know he would be far, far away from all of that. Still, I was sad. My little family of three had never been separated before he moved away. We’d been together through thick and thin, struggles and triumphs, ups and downs, you get the idea; but we were always together.
The first couple of months were rough. He was torn about coming back, I encouraged it, and thank goodness his best friend convinced him to stay and try it for awhile before making the decision to come back to Florida.
He has a great job, he lives in a peaceful place, he has not major stressors in his life, all is well. I’ve come to better terms with him being so far away, but honestly when I saw him after all of that time, there was a major tug on my heartstrings.