I didn't see it coming. My family orchestrated a trip for me with three legs: to LA to visit my firstborn and his wife, to Portland to stay with our second son and his wife, and a stop in San Francisco to be with my sister. They nailed all the decisions about travel, dates, and accommodations including asking my new boss for time off, booking the Airbnb, signing me up for Lyft, and downloading my boarding passes. Lukas even packed my phone with movies for the flights. All I had to do was show up.

It's not as if we don't already have avenues for connection. Hangouts, texts, Facetime, and phone calls all ferry our words and eye creases across the continent to each other. Community is at my fingertip every day of the year.

Still something in another dimension transpires when we are breathing the same air- which was smoky from brush fires - and eating slices from the same pizza- which was extra thin crust. To sit on their couches and pet their pets brings a presence not accessible by wifi. Even hi-speed.

Some of the conversations that rambled in without fanfare were about events that have expired. Decisions and non decisions that obscured our thinking a long time ago. Like why I never visited much. They were not packaged as apologies or justifications. Just  a clearing of past confusion making space for fresh affection. It could be tempting to label these explanations as overdue, and stamp them like an irritated librarian.

But in the elbow room that becomes available after urgency gives up and goes away, compassion lifts her bright face.

One of the resentments I held the leash to for most of my adult life was that my mother never came to see me. I did, after all, live in enviable places like Florida, Albuquerque, and- ironically - LA. Many of my friends had moms who hopped on planes to come when they gave birth, and stayed to usher in the chaos. But not mine.

As I zipped past the long security line and through TSA, a perk Lukas added like a cherry on top of an already opulent sundae, I realized.

Maybe I could have done more than just expect my mother to slog through those obstacles. What if I had been as generous as my kids, the ones she never rocked, and handed her a paper ticket?

But it never crossed my mind.