I didn't know, really know, how much I love my sons until this morning. Photo by le vent le cri

Yesterday, my husband and I took them to the airport at 4:30am, to meet up with a group of high school students and three chaperones for a flight to Beijing. They will be gone for two weeks, as part of a cultural exchange.  It's the first time that both have been gone at the same time for more than a day, let alone traveled overseas. 

Leading up to the trip, I was determined to be one of those parents who didn't need to stay in contact over the course of the two weeks. I had no interest in finding cell phone plans for use in China, nor did I encourage my sons to email while away.  In fact, on the way to airport, speaking from a mixture of lack of sleep, tension, and relief that comes with departure day, I told my sons, "You won't hear from me for two weeks!" They had heard enough of my nagging (on shopping, getting vaccinations, and packing) over the previous month to smile quietly at the thought of being out of touch for an extended period.

Saying good-bye at the airport, I cried. Not like a river, but rather a trickling stream. I held most of it in, enough to stay composed, and to give them each a measured hug. Afterward, my day was marked by thoughts of where they were in their travels. While I was finishing up a bike ride, they were on the plane to San Francisco. While I was eating lunch, they were boarding the flight to Beijing. While my husband and I were at a restaurant eating dinner, they were settling into a movie. Photo by Kossy@FINEDAYS

This morning, I awoke to fleeting thoughts of what it would be like if their plane had crashed on the other side of the world, while we had been sleeping in our bed in Colorado. How soon would I hear and who would call?

The chaperones had promised to give the parents a daily report of their activities. I checked my email but didn't see anything from them.  I decided to do some work, writing a note to a colleague about a joint project.

And then, the email appeared in my inbox.  It was from one of the chaperones. I could feel my chest tighten and a lump appear in my throat as I opened up the email. Tears came to my eyes as I read the words that said they had arrived safe and sound. 

The kicker was when I saw that the email included a photo of the group taken at the Beijing airport, after clearing customs. Finding my sons in the picture, a mixture of joy and gratefulness flooded me. This was proof positive that they were okay. My younger son had a relaxed smile on his face and my older son had his usual Mona Lisa smile, not letting on too much. I was surprised at how visceral this feeling was for me–knowing that your children are safe and happy, no matter where they are. I have no words for this feeling, other than a mother's love.