saying goodbye again

My only son left home again.

First, it was preschool and his crying that would not cease when I dropped him off.

Then, it was kindergarten when my crying would not cease following his morning departures.

We all got into the rhythm of life and its daily separations: school and camp and overnights at his friend's homes.

Then he left home again for an eternity of ten months. He journeyed to Israel after his high school graduation when the intifada was in full swing. I prayed nightly for his safe return.

Now, at the age of 27, he leaves again in search of his true vocation.

For the 13-hour drive to Atlanta, he packed himself a bagel, a water bottle, an apple. He got behind the wheel of his Honda and slowly backed away from the driveway.

My only son left home again.