Pink Eye?

Not exactly.

This is my firstborn. He was about four months old, just starting to get the almost white hair that he eventually grew out of. Wasn't he proud?


And here he is, 32 years later.


Still AWESOME AND AMAZING!

I just put him on a plane to Japan. Where he and his wife will be living for at least two more years. Possibly forever.

Pink eye? No, I burst a blood vessel in my eye crying (or trying not to) for the last two days.

Oh, I know. Intellectually, I know what a wonderful opportunity this is for them. She will be near her family after living in the US for most of the last decade. They will live in a place where teachers are still treated with respect and where healthcare is considered more a right than a privilege. They will have access to beauty and culture and the hot city scene if they want it.

For all of those things, I rejoice for this opportunity.

But my heart is a mother's heart. I weep.

An ocean away.

I can't help but to think about the pioneer mothers who sent their babies west (as I send mine west) without the internet, cell phones, Skype and facebook. Who stood in the road until the wagon had rolled out of sight and who knew that - quite possibly - most likely - they would never hear from that child again. Never know whether they made their future or not.

And I am grateful.

Or to think of the mothers today who don't want to let go of that last hug - as I did not want to let go this morning - to take their arms from around their precious baby off to Afghanistan or Iraq.

And I am grateful.

Fare well, my precious boy.

Be safe. Have fun.