What is it that I miss most about being away from my children?
Not being able to feel the texture of their days.
Not knowing the turns they take as they move from sleep to wakefulness.
Not having the moment of watching a sleep-covered face, to pull the covers over a shoulder exposed in the night.
The messiness of rooms strewn with books and papers and notes falling apart from having been passed through too many hands under the unwatchful eye of a teacher focused on Q & A, holding in their folds the stimulus for silent laughter.
Passing on bits of advice in the hope that they will find a space amidst the flashing synapses of their minds, now busy making connections of importance to a young life.
In missing these moments I also miss the passage into new phases of life. Womanhood. Adulthood. New personhood.