Leaving the Girlfriend Kids and Heading to Dubai

I recently left America and traveled to Dubai, United Arab Emirates to live for two months.

Saying goodbye to my boyfriend’s daughter the night before I left was all very normal and without tears—just a promise that I’d bring back something really cool that a 17-year-old fashion junky would like. However, my boyfriend’s son was another other story.

I had an early flight, so we had to leave the house at the butt crack of dawn. It was decided that his son would stay asleep, while my boyfriend drove me to the airport. If all went well and there wasn’t any traffic, he’d be back in less than two hours. I said a preliminary goodbye the night before, and my boyfriend’s son said he’d be up in the morning so we could say our goodbyes.

It was a restless sleep, full of nerves, excitement and don’t-forget-to-pack-the hardboiled-eggs reminders. I never travel without my eggs. I shot out of bed as soon as the alarm went off and went into final preparation mode. Passport, check. Visa, check. Money, license, boarding pass, protein bars, phone, camera, eggs. Check! I was ready.

While my boyfriend was kind enough to drag my, I-know-this-is-going-to-be-over-the- weight limit suitcase to the car, I walked over to his son, who was still sleeping on the couch. I bent down over him, whispered his name and told him I was leaving and wanted to say goodbye.

He extended his 12-year-old arms out and threw them around my neck in a tight hug, bringing us cheek to cheek. He started to cry. Oh, shit. I felt sad, lost, found, mushy and more like a girlfriend mom than I ever had. He said he didn’t want me to go and that he was going to miss me. Double shit. I was hit in the gut in the most beautiful way.

I assured him that two months was going to fly by and that I’d miss him as well. I told him to do lots of things over the summer so he could tell me all about them when I got back. I said I’d bring back presents. Parents say that all the time, right? I tried to lighten it up by promising to follow him on Facebook, so he’d better be good.

I kissed his cheek and the top of his head, as I brushed his hair back behind his ears, comforting him like my parents did to me when I was sad. I always felt deep in my soul that I’d be a natural at parenting but this beautiful outward display of emotion toward me caught me by surprise. And yet, at the same time, nothing felt more authentic than soothing this sensitive little boy in his half sleep state.