Wistfulness

Earlier, I forgot to mention the source of my wistfulness last night. My first-born's personal effects were picked up for shipping overseas yesterday. On the one hand, I share his excitement of a new adventure--living and working in London, on the other hand, I feel somewhat sad to think that my child, albeit 30 years old, will be living on another continent. It is a great opportunity for him, and for that I am ecstatic; really, it's just an acknowledgment of what I have known for years--that he is worthy of great trust and is an exceptional young man, if I do say so myself.