Today, I am over the Atlantic.
I’ll be here for hours, flying through the silent deafening darkness, and when tomorrow dawns too early I’ll land in another continent, then fly to another. When tomorrow is done, I’ll set foot in Africa again, and it will be so far away from familiar, and it will be like coming home again.
When I look over my shoulder, my three beautiful children will be nowhere I can reach.
I will count the hours at first, wonder after them, it’ll take a while to shake plate-balancing mode but then I will begin to forget them, for a moment, for longer. The work and stories and faces in front of me will blur the ones back home.
How can a mother do this to her children?
And please follow along here for the stories I’ll find along the way. Your prayers are necessary and appreciated.