Right after my husband left for his business trip, my six-year-old gripped my hand and quietly said, “Mom… we can’t go back home. This morning I heard Dad on the phone, talking about something that involves us and it didn’t sound right.” So we didn’t go back.
Airport goodbyes were supposed to be effortless. A quick kiss, a soft promise to text upon landing, and then life would simply fold neatly back into its usual routine. That was what I believed I was d…