It was in Korea when we went for the lunar New Year the year after we were married.  It was a rough trip for me (and you).  I was the new daughter in law, and not accustomed to the culture there.  I brought my hanbok- traditional Korean dress, and had to change into it a few times to bow to the many relatives I met in Seoul and then Daegu.  Your mom informed me on a Wednesday or Thursday that she’d told their church I would be singing on Sunday.  It was February and very cold, and I caught a horrible cold and cough and was up many nights coughing and even throwing up.   We traveled to the small village where your father grew up and there again, I bowed in a room of old women sitting on the floor squinting at me.  

Finally, I remember there was a moment after church that Sunday- where yes, I’d gotten up in front of a huge congregation and sang while you accompanied me on piano- my face on a giant screen- when your mom said they’d give us a few minutes alone and we could rest- they had some things to do at church in the afternoon. 

I think almost as soon as their apartment door closed, we stood in the middle of the room embracing very, very tightly and taking a deep, unified breath.

“I missed you,” you whispered.  “I missed you so much.”