The sun dipped its brush in the fog this morning, drawing perfect pastels over the mountaintops. It was a little after 7 and I took the long route home, enjoying the warmliness of this brand new autumn day.
There is some magic about the airports; they tend to highlight the human in us.
You hugged me and asked me to take care of myself. "You are going there so you can be useful to the people, so be smart and do what you have to be useful," you said. For the first time I felt you are finally at peace with my decision and maybe even respect it. For the first time I felt such sincerity in your tears, clear of attempts to prevent me from going.
Yet it was you leaving this morning, not me. I stood there for the longest time watching the two of you go through the security line, his striped shirt allowing me to tell you apart from the crowd. I wanted to keep looking at you. We parted lifestyles a while ago and those are only geographical directions we are parting today. Dots on the map. Longitudes and latitudes.
When we get back together, things won’t be the same, I thought, and I think you felt it, too. I could see it in your tears. I love you, mom. Good bye and safe journey.
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I will be gone for some time and I will miss blogging, and all of the wonderful writers I've been just starting to get to know. I should be back by mid-December if things go as planned. I will try to get online every now and then, most probably on weekends, if I get a chance. Please stop by Dreaming of Africa if you want to follow my journey.
Currently listening to Dark Road by Annie Lennox (from "Songs of Mass Destruction")