By Erik Porter
Excitement washed over him. He leapt from bed and strolled into the kitchen. Bags packed and loaded in the car last night. A punch from his sister as he ate his breakfast feast. Time slowed while Dad searched the house for missed items and Mom floated through the kitchen filling his plate again. He savored these last family moments, drawing them out like taffy.
Grandparents arrived. Time snapped back. Hugs all around. His sister wouldn’t cry, not in front of him, but he saw tears waiting. She punched him in the arm. It wouldn’t be good-bye without it.