It feels much the same at 60 as it did at six.
The almost-ache still stretches up and back between my stomach and shoulder blades, but I’m infinitely more skilled at using a Kleenex® when my thoughts of a still-fresh grandgirl and her family 1700 miles away turn drippy.
And besides, in 55 minutes two short rings will rise from my laptop and she and her mom will be here in my bedroom, that Mississippi-to-Colorado distance disappearing in a heartbeat.
Give Superwoman the red and yellow S on her leotard.
It’s your pure white S on its Tiffany-blue shield that makes me smile.
Just yesterday you gave me Girl Recovered from the First of a Thousand Colds.
Today I’ve been promised Girl in Frog Pajamas. (No, not another Tom Robbins story, just a hot-pink-with-feet pair I found on the sale rack and couldn’t resist because they match her mom’s pajama pants.)
When we reluctantly end the connection this morning, I will call my nearly-90 mom in Iowa to share what I’ve seen. Just a year ago at Thanksgiving, it was she who held my laptop and watched as her own dark-haired grandgirl, grown up and then-stationed in Florida, offered a side profile of a growing belly, baby-to-be four months “baking.”
Four generations, Mom smiled. All together.
I simply stood behind her recliner, Kleenex in hand.
But here’s what I know about being homesick that I didn’t know in 1956.
It doesn’t last forever.
Practicing gratitude eases the ache.
Plus, it’s not about being in a specific place.
It’s about spending sweet time with the people we love.
However we can make it happen.
Skype’s really got it right.
Because just before you dial the call, its log-on screen says, “Take a deep breath.”
And I do.