Waiting at the airport for Greg to land
It makes me feel so safe and anchored when I stand in the strong circle of his arms...and feels so horribly unfair that I only get to have that privilege once every month or two. It's a beautiful thing to watch him put our children to bed...and yet I feel greif choking up in my throat as I count down to the last night before he'll have to go back to his tiny apartment alone.
Picking wildflowers in the yard
Every kiss, every time I see one of the children take his hand, every time he pulls the boys into a wild wrestling match -- every special moment from the first to the last of the weekend is beautiful and so achingly bittersweet, tearing at my heart as I prepare to send him back, away from us, away to where the words are all we have to connect us across the miles.
Building a train set with ALL of the track pieces
Skype, sweet text messages through the days, phone calls while running errands, crazy cell phone photos to share the moments -- all of this allows us to span the distance, but there's no way it can ever be enough. No way that it can ever replace the gift of a simple touch, a hug, a physical presence in our household.
But this won't last forever, and we are stronger as a family because of the effort it takes to even be a family. Despite the pain and the challenges, this is a stage, a season in our lives. I wouldn't trade what we have for anything in the world.