Separation: The Great Illusion

Or so they say. We're all connected, every day of our lives. A few minutes ago, as I tossed dirty clothes into the washer, all I could think of was the last time my son came home, and we were looking for him at the airport. His plane had landed about an hour before; my family had split up to look for him, and I walked out of Starbucks with hot coffee in my hand when I saw him walking toward me through the terminal in his desert camo, looking older and more like a man than ever. I had thirty seconds to watch him before he saw me. He's not a very observant soldier - I was three feet away before he knew I was there. He put his arms around me with a hug of superhuman strength, and kissed me on the cheek in that way sophisticated world travelers have. This man, flesh of my flesh, is a spirit which I carried in my body for nine months. How, then, can he ever be separate from me, even if he's on the other side of the world?