It’s raining outside, rain that comes down in sheets and plasters the grass down into the dirt and washes the sidewalk clean. The lightning had been threatening this storm all afternoon but that’s Colorado and I didn’t really expect to see much wet fall from the sky. But just as I’m thinking it’s all false noise, the rain falls.
My kids and husband had just arrived at the airport to wait for the plane that would fly them three states away from me. That’s when the rain began to pour. I got a text alert saying the plane will be delayed and in my mind I see my little family sitting under the big white awning at Denver International with the rain thumping above them eating an airport dinner of burritos or sandwiches or whatever their little hearts’ desire. And I’m glad they’re with their dad.
My kids will be gone for two weeks. Every summer my kids leave for each of their grandparents’ houses to spend quality time with people who love them unconditionally for two weeks each. I’m glad I have kids who go on these adventures. I’m glad I’ve raised children who aren’t afraid of going out into the world. Flying off so strong because they have their dad and me loving them the whole time.
I miss them when their gone. I miss their morning cuddles and taking them on our mini adventures during the day. I even miss their grumpy little faces at the end of the day when we’ve had too many adventures and all they need are good night kisses and sleep. But I’m also happy that they get this time with grandparents, memories that will last a lifetime.
They always come home with stories about the latest Abuelita and Abuelito adventure and the great camping stories with grandpa Joe and Irene and Grandma Esther’s great food and the cat they adore. They’ll have these memories forever. I wouldn’t want it any other way.
When they come home they will be so tired and I’ll be there to hug them. I’ll also be there to listen to all their stories, every last word. Because they’ve been gone too long and I wouldn’t want to miss any of it.