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One mother’s journey of travel and reunion…
It had been 12 days since I last saw my daughter, with only 18 hours at home in between trips—eight of those spent sleeping.
I had a great time and enjoyed the extra rest when work was done, but as the days stretched on, both of us felt the longing for each other. Time lost its meaning—days turned into nights and nights into days.
The moment finally came for me to board the plane. Just a few more hours until I'd be home. As the engines roared to life, I hoped it would help me sleep, but instead, my thoughts of home grew louder. Seconds turned into minutes, minutes into hours. The flight felt endless. A small light from my iPod lit up the cabin every time I checked the time. I’d close my eyes, only to open them again a few minutes later, either to check the time or find something else to do. Then I felt it—the slight drop of the plane’s front. “Almost there,†I thought, “almost there.†My foot tapped with excitement, and a smile spread across my face. Even though the moments dragged, the wheels touched down smoothly, and I knew we were close now.
Deplaning and getting my luggage went quickly, and I was grateful for that. I was greeted by a ruggedly handsome man. His soft lips brushed mine. “Welcome home, lover,†he said. It rolled off his tongue like poetry. I couldn’t speak, my knees weak. He always did that to me. He opened the door, and I stepped into the warm cabin of his freshly washed SUV. It was cozy, and I hadn’t realized how cold I had become in the evening chill. The ride home was sweet and joyful, but still not complete. I needed to see my little girl.
Of course, a sweet little girl couldn’t stay awake this late, but that didn’t stop me from stopping in for a late-night kiss on her cheek.
The next morning, while daddy headed to work, we spent our time cuddling, watching her favorite new movies, and playing hide-and-seek. We ran from room to room, giggles echoing through the house. We played well past breakfast time, and finally, our bellies growled from hunger. So we headed downstairs to the kitchen for a much-needed snack.
No one could have predicted what happened next.
Since my return home, she had been attached to me, literally. This time was no different as we made our way down the stairs. I took the first step, then the second. A moment later, we found ourselves at the bottom of the stairs, her still clinging to me... and crying. We both were crying. I was hurting. She was scared.
Through her tears, I heard, “I want daddy…†All I could do was nod, “I know, me too!â€
After a few moments and a call to her ruggedly handsome daddy… everything got better.
Besides the bruise on my rear and my ego, we are both fine now. We’re happily playing and laughing once again. And now, as I make my way down the stairs holding my baby girl, I hear, “Mommy, hold the rail.â€
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