At the window.

Dear you,

My grandfather waved until the car turned the corner. Even in the rain. Even when we were coming back the next morning.

I thought of it as something grandparents did, like keeping boiled sweets in their pockets. Then I watched my son leave for college and found myself at the window, still waving after he could no longer see me.

My husband asked if I was all right. I said yes. I was wondering how many times someone had stood watching me leave when I was already thinking about where I was going.