The Paul and The Judy left on Saturday morning. I did fine until they started pulling out of the driveway. Then I started to sob. I was sad for the rest of the day.
Unfortunately, that mood followed me clear into Sunday morning. At church I was sitting right behind a little boy who looks somewhat like my nephew, Karsen. He started to wave at me and I started to cry. Again. I couldn't help but think of all the things I'm missing in my family because I live so far away.
So, there I was, blubbering like a fool when a mother had to hand off her two-year-old daughter to another lady so she could play the piano.
The little girl started screaming, "MOMMY, MOMMY! I WANT MY MOMMY!"
I wanted to stand up and shout, "AMEN, LITTLE GIRL! I UNDERSTAND EXACTLY WHAT YOU'RE FEELING! I want my mommy, too."
Except I'm not two, I'm thirty. And I was at church. So I didn't.