Recently Shannon wrote a piece on being far away from home when her grandmother died. It got me thinking, “are those that don’t travel somehow getting it more right? Are they more in tune with what actually matters?”
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“She must have been waiting for you,” distant relatives said softly at the visitation, cupping my hand in theirs with furrowed brows and sympathetically tilted heads.
“I think so, too,” my head would tilt back.
But I didn’t actually think so. In reality, she was already gone by the time my plane touched the ground.