There are lots of comings and goings in our family, almost too many to recall.
With each going or leaving there is a bit of melancholy and with each coming there is much anticipation and subsequent gladness on arrival.
As I write this Sheila and I are traveling from Durham, up near the Scottish border to London. We just spent about a week with our son, daughter-in-law and our three grandchildren. As exciting as it was to arrive, it was sad to leave.
We arrived at the staton early for the 11:41 East Coast train from Edinburgh to London and waited in the terminal with our son and his 16 month old daughter Sarafina. We were playing peek-a-boo with her and anticipating the impending loneliness starting to creep up on us. She had finally gotten comfortable with us even to the point of allowing me to pick her up a couple of times.
Fina needed her lunch and a nap so they had to go back to the car. I walked them out to the parking lot as the sadness of departure swept over me, wanting to hang on to them until the last possible moment. I kissed her and hugged her father tightly. I waited at the station and waved as they drove by, beating the meter maid dressed in black with a scowl on her face by about half a minute.
Slowly the anticipation of returning to Durham began to creep into me as I thought of the excitement of our arrival, looking forward to that time when again we’re together at our next coming.