That little blue window popped up at the bottom of my screen this morning telling me my son was on Skype. And then he'd gone, prompting waves of yearning. I miss him. So much. I like him. I'm happy he's where he is and I am where I am. I know that, all being well, in a couple of months (is it really only a couple of months?) I'll be able to speak to him properly, and that sooner or later I'll see him again. I need to hug him and feel that he is really there.
But what about all those mothers in Tibet who will never see their sons and daughters again? Whose only contact is short, monitored phone calls, months apart and limited to "how are you?" to which the answer has to be "I am fine".
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