After over 3 months in America, my parents were returning to China today.
We all got up earlier than usual, doing a final check over their luggage and travel documents, while Henry-still barely awake-watched us in great confusion. After a quick breakfast, Mom picked him up one last time, gently booped his nose, and stroked him from head to tail. Henry purred. He obviously loved his grandparents for all the same reasons humans love theirs-endless attention, sneaky treats, and the way they call him for dinner. Dad leaned over, patted him on the head: "Goodbye kitty, be good!" Henry purred louder before mom set him back down on the couch.
We got to the airport well in advance. It was a busy day-the security line was so long, it squiggled into at least five folds.
Without prelude, I hugged them both goodbye, kissed them gently on their foreheads, and wished them safe travels. There was sadness in their eyes, mom cried, dad didn't, but probably was. I felt a swell inside my gut, emotions stirred up from my chest hitting my nose and eyes like waves battering a rocky shore. They entered the checkpoint and slowly weaved into the crowds. I waited and watched them switch back, fade, reappear, then fade again-until it was the last time. I waved, and they waved back, until we could no longer see each other.
It is always difficult to say goodbye to the people you love. It doesn't matter if we believe in the same things, it doesn't matter if there is subtle family dynamics. None of it truly matters. Love is love.
Aug 5, 2025 at home in Bothell, WA