Once upon a time I was a tiny little girl holding a big sign and waiting for my daddy to land. This wasn't the first time he came home. It's not the first one I remember. But it is the biggest of the memories. Other cruises ended with counting rings of paper garlands and decorating the house and assorted other things. And he always came home. Right as expected.
Today a friend of mine was sitting at the window with her two beautiful little boys waiting for daddy to come home. And I cried big, wet tears in public.
I have lived that life. I have watched. But now he doesn't come home anymore. And that is so hard.
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