This past Wednesday was a day I've been waiting for and counting down on my chalkboard for the past 30 days.
Finally, after nearly a year in Belgium, my daughter and her husband returned to Canada!
Now my daughter has been a world traveller for the past 3 years (Japan, England and Belgium) so I should be used to being away for great lengths of time.
But I'm not. She is a piece of my heart. That is the only way I can justify my behaviour when we meet them at the airport.
I can see their plane, flying in from Iceland, has landed. The plane right before theirs is flying in from Jamaica. I'm watching as the sliding doors open and the people trudge through with all their luggage. They are definitely leaning towards the Jamaican caucasian. I'm looking for more along the line of pale and blond. I'm especially looking for that face I know so well. That piece of my heart. There are a lot of people coming through the doors and I'm starting to get anxious. So I tell myself "She's in the same building as you RIGHT now."
Finally the doors slide open and there she is, her and Dan. I follow down the ramp to meet her as she walks down the other side. My husband knows the deal so he takes over her luggage pile and I take her in my arms.
And sob. Convulsively. For a long time. I just cling to her as a piece of my heart is re-attached. Surgery is completed and I try to get a hold of myself.
Like good Canadian parents, we take them to Tim Hortons for sustenance.
So now we start a new transition. They have barely been married a year and they both need jobs and a place to live. For now, they are hanging at our house, getting their bearings and figuring out what their next adventure will be.
I don't mind.
It is good to see her, this piece of my heart. It is also good to see her with an amazing husband and her own heart so full. You can't ask for much more than that.