Miles and miles away. How does it happen. Families flung into the farthest reaches of the earth. Or at least the country. It happens gradually. At first it seems just temporary. The ramifications unclear.
It
makes me long for a time when families stayed in one place. Some still do. But
it’s rare. People are mobile. They relocate. They go where the work is. Where
opportunities are. Then they find they like it. They build a new life.
I
never anticipated a time I wouldn’t see my children frequently; I wouldn’t see
my grandchildren grow up. Yet, here it is. I’m grateful for technology and the
efforts they make for me to see their faces.
I
remember the song I used to sing to my babies, when they were babies:
One of these mornings,
you’re going to rise up singing,
Then you’ll spread
your wings and you’ll take to the sky…
Until that morning,
ain’t nothing can harm you,
With your daddy and
mama standing by.
Yes.
Absolutely. You want them to fly. You want them to be strong. It’s as it should
be. But it doesn’t make it easier. In the meantime, I will savor what I have. Fly,
babies, fly. Soar.
