I came back from a business trip, and the first thing my seven-year-old son said was, “Don’t go into my room.” Of course, I went in anyway.

”

I dropped the handle of my suitcase and hugged him.

His hair smelled like the strawberry shampoo he refused to admit he liked. His cheek pressed against my coat, and his arms locked around me as if he thought I might disappear again.

For a second, everything felt normal.

I closed my eyes and held him tighter.

“I missed you so much,” I whispered.

“I missed continue reading …