It felt right for some reason. When I go on a trip ... well, it seems like it’s in the natural order of things. But when my son is the one leaving ..... I’m not sure why it’s different, but it is. It just is.He found me in the kitchen, closing the dishwasher door. He punched the Start button, then held me from behind. Turned me toward my bedroom and, still holding me tightly, lock-stepped me into the bathroom. He’s always loved walking this way, pressed into my back. Even when he was shorter than. Yet because of her age and our relationship a voice was screaming in my head not to do anything.Our eyes held and I could see that she was breathing very hard. I think we were both afraid to speak, both afraid that our voices would fail, both afraid that we might find that it wasn't so, that we were making up something in our heads that really didn't exist."God you're so beautiful," I finally whispered.Cookie looked at me as if she were struggling with what to say. Finally, she asked, softly,. More

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