"38 miles to Hot Springs"
That's when I allowed myself to start crying.
I'd missed my son, Egan, horribly during the three weeks at AIJI, but I tried not to really think about him. I knew I missed him -- he creeped into my thoughts daily -- but I didn't allow myself to really give into the intense feelings that were surely there.
I couldn't.
I had way too much going on at the institute and I knew I needed to focus. After all, what lessons I take from AIJI will affect Egan for the rest of his life.
So every day I spent time looking at photos of him and then I pushed him out of my head. It wasn't until I was just outside the town where he was staying with his grandparents that I felt the full force of what I'd been burying.
Luckily, I received a warm welcome from my 19-month-old son. He usually punishes me after being away -- even if it's only for 24 hours. That wasn't the case this time.
I crept into his bedroom, watched him sleep for a minute, then picked him up. He immediately woke and appeared surprised, then hugged me tight. And continued to hug me. And then fell asleep on my chest, while I held him, silently weeping.
I'm incredibly passionate about journalism. And I grow more so every day. But it will NEVER compare to my feelings for my son.
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