I am just over 12 hours from jumping on a plane. I am less than 48 hours from seeing my baby. My baby who moved in July to the other side of the world.

After a week of conferences and keeping my excitement contained, I am finally at the eve of my departure. Less than 50 lbs. of luggage, all-carry on, sits in my hall, awaiting my trip to Japan where my son has taken up a life.

I have not seen his animated face through Skype or Facetime. He does not have wifi in his apartment. He does have a cell phone though, and technology trumps snail mail. We have employed LINE app to send photos and messages. We’ve also used it like a phone so I have heard his voice.

But, since July, I have not seen him talking to me, or laughing, and I have not hugged or kissed that child. On Sunday night, Okinawa time (EST +13 hours), I will get to squeeze my baby. My heart squeezes a bit just thinking about it.

Somehow, I plan to keep up my slices. I will capture some moments, like when we visit an elementary school, and go to traditional cultural sites. It should be fertile ground for my writer’s notebook…if I can stop soaking in my child long enough to pick up my pen, or tap out some words on a keyboard.