On June 21, we loaded up the car, jumped in at dawn, and headed west. For three weeks, the girls and I explored chunks of our beautiful country. From the north shores of Lake Superior, to the strong, wide beauty of the prairies, to never-quite-enough family time in Alberta, and finally to the west coast, we got to get to know a few pockets of Canada. And a few more pockets of each other.
Today, I sit in the too-quiet solitude. After three straight weeks with my girls - the most I've had since the separation - I have had to say goodbye. I dropped them off with their Dad, who is visiting with some of his family in BC.
And then I drove home. All 4600 km over four days. Alone.
After sharing moments of excitement, teaching them about geography and history, and hearing them sing their little hearts out, the drive was solitary.
I realised, for the first time, that I don't just love my kids. They are my two most favourite people. They are smart and funny and kind and wildly random. They have grown into two very different people, with their own ideas, opinions, and big fat hearts. They are, for lack of a better word, simply beautiful.
I miss them.
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