As Frederick the frog and I flew across the Atlantic and past several time zones, we watched the sun and waited for darkness to fall. Who knew that a day could be so long and the Atlantic ocean so large? Norway turned into Amsterdam, then Atlanta and finally after 18 hours Denver. It was almost midnight and I felt like Cinderella going to the ball, almost afraid that at the stroke of 12 my fairytale would disappear.
Jet-lag followed me off the plane and into the airport terminal where my son and his girlfriend were waiting for me. Finally I was going to meet my son, and when I put my arms around him I knew that a part of me that was lost had come home. After almost 35 years the image of a small baby boy behind a glass window was replaced with the warm smile of a man excited to meet his mother. There are no words that could possibly describe the emotions that filled that first embrace.
It has only been a few days since I arrived in Denver. I am still adjusting to the time difference and although I feel tired all the time, sleep does not come easy. Sleeping seems like such a waste of time. Denver is a beautiful place. The weather is fantastic, the mountains majestic but for the time being I cannot seem to concentrate on any of that. I am too busy with the most important thing Denver has to offer and that is getting to know my son.