I CAME HOME FROM A WORK TRIP, AND MY 7-YEAR-OLD SON SAID, “DON’T GO INTO MY ROOM” — NATURALLY, I LOOKED

“Mom!”

His hair carried the scent of the strawberry shampoo he always insisted he hated. His cheek rested against my coat, and he clung to me as though he worried I might leave again.

For one brief moment, everything felt completely normal.

I shut my eyes and held him even tighter.

“I missed you so much,” I whispered.

“I missed you more.”

“Impossible.” “No,continue reading …