I took my husband to the airport last night. It's something of a ritual for us, these hour long rides to the airport. He travels for business, usually about 4 times a year for about a week each time. Not terrible - I know many people who travel longer and more frequently - but still...
He gets all jazzed up for these trips. I'm so happy for him and proud of him - he's good at what he does, and he loves his job! Growing up abroad, he's especially happy to go back and visit with old friends (not to mention how delighted he is to have the chance to see his favorite soccer team play!).
When our kids were younger they would come to the airport with us. Back then we were still allowed to go into the airport to see him off - security rules have changed that now. We'd have tearful send offs but happy reunions a week later. They always insisted on making daddy a welcome home sign, usually on poster board, but once my older daughter got more creative. She took many sheets of plain white paper and attached them all to make a l-o-n-g sign which she held on one end and her sister (sitting in the stroller) held at the other. That got some good stares and happy sighs in the airport.
Last night it was just us. As we approached the airport he started the last minute reminders of things I need to do or look out for, while I was checking to make sure he had packed everything he needs. Inevitably, I started to tear up. I miss him terribly when he's away. With promises to text as soon as he lands, we kissed goodbye outside the car. I hope the week passes quickly!