Leaving was so much easier this time than last. A good thing because if it were still that difficult four years later (a couple of those years spent at college away from home) we’d be in need of some serious couch time to explore attachment issues. Still, there was a slight misting of the eyes because saying goodbye to the familiarity of home and loved ones to live with strangers and go to college in a foreign country for months is somewhat daunting. I like our kids and, no matter how much I might encourage them, I never like to see them go.
C2 got in the security line and it moved much more quickly than it had been moving 5 seconds before, so she was scrambling to get her boarding pass and passport out while saying goodbye to me. The person checking her documents sort of motioned toward me, about 30 feet away on the other side of the magic security line, then she looked at C2, then back at me. Could there be a problem with the boarding pass I’d printed the night before? Did the agent not like the color of her shoulder bag? Was she sizing us up, wondering if we looked like the type of scofflaws who might conspire to undermine the safety and security of our nation so C2 could board the plane with 3.125 ounces of shampoo not contained in a 1-quart zip-top clear plastic bag? C2 looked at me, then back at her, confused, because the woman was gesturing more than speaking. The agent had obviously recognized something in C2’s expression: “Go ahead! Go give her another kiss goodbye. You will be coming back home, you know.”