Rebecca - and her brothers and father - are eight thousand, four hundred and ninety-four kilometers away right now. That counts as far. This kind of distance, and the nine-hour time difference that comes with it, can't be very easily bridged, even with all the wonderful technology, like Skype, that we have available. An old-fashioned, hand-made present sent by snail-mail? It helped. Me. Some.
Rebecca had done a wonderful job packing: she neatly folded and put away in her little suitcase underwear, a swimsuit, homework books (!), her dolls, and a few other things including one lavender sachet - just in case. In case of what? I don't know for sure, but I didn't argue there.
She was a little short on summer clothes, though, of the kind that wouldn't shrink in an American dryer. So the night they left, I made her a sundress on a whim (listening to knitting podcasts because - you know - I was alone in the house and I could listen to a podcast and sew into the night). Then I made a card for her, and her brothers, with scraps of fabrics from dresses I'd sewed for Rebecca over the years.
I mailed my package feeling rather momentous: sending an envelope addressed to my daughter was a first. But Rebecca was way ahead of me in the paper-letter department. When I stripped her bed, I found a little note from her tucked away under her pillow ...
That helped. A lot.