Today marks the end of the five-day trip to Durham and back with my dad, who is here on police business. As I write this he is driving alone to his friend’s place, where he will stay the night before boarding the plane home tomorrow.
As I watched my dad pull away and drive off into the night, I reminisced about a time when he still gave me toys and piggyback rides and sanctuary against my mother’s cane, when I would stand at the wrong side of the departure gates as he left, sometimes for months on end, and wait for the day he would return with a suitcase chock-full of magical items from faraway lands.
But this time I was the one who was away from home. And there is no more magic, or piggyback rides.