Becky
We landed back home late in the afternoon, jet-lagged and sun-worn in the particular way that only two weeks of complete indulgence could leave a person, and I felt the ache of missing my son so intensely during the drive from the airport that I found myself checking the time obsessively, willing the car to move faster through traffic.
Two weeks was the longest I'd ever been away from him in his entire life. Even during the worst stretches of his treatment, I'd never left his side for more than a few hours at a time. Video calls every evening had helped, watching him hold up drawings and describe his days with the nanny, but nothing compared to the actual, physical need to hold him again.
He came barreling across the front lawn the moment our car pulled through the gates, having a
