I took a picture of my parents before boarding the return train toward the United States. I always do.
I keep several pictures of my parents from different train stations where we've parted. And if I looked through the photo albums at home, I would find similar pictures that I took of my grandparents.
The pictures mean we will see each other again. Or certainly hope to.
Distance breeds its little superstitions. For years, my mom kept a dollar in her wallet. "As long as I have the dollar with me, I know I will see you again," she would say. When she lost the dollar - or spent it by mistake - my dad gave her a double-watch that keeps track of time in both France and the US. As long as she has her watch, we'll see each other again.
I had not planned for a life abroad. Fate took its own course after I spent a year of graduate school at UT Austin. Ever since, life has been a long series of arrivals and departures, and the weekly Sunday phone calls, the birthday cards, the twice-a-year packages that don't always make it in one piece and the occasional e-mails.
My parents called us at the hotel in Lyon, and again at the hotel in Paris. I've cried both times. It'll get better in a few days when I get to Houston and life takes over. Until next time.