Two weeks.

I can't tell you how many times I've come to post on my blog and have sat, staring at the huge whiteness of the empty 'new post' screen, only to click the little 'x' and walk away.

I just don't have many words right now.

We are down to two weeks left with T.

And I am perplexed and overwhelmed and relieved and exhausted.

It's been a hard couple of months, this last extension of his stay...

And I haven't always handled it well.

I find myself with an ugly heart.

I think the reason I haven't written is because I don't have happy stories to tell. All I have is my tired, lonely struggle to finish this journey. And that's not very fun to read about, is it?

In some ways, I am void of emotion. I think I processed so much grief in January when we were so close to saying goodbye - there's very little energy left to go through that again.

And so I wait.

I wait for the new grief - the finishing grief I didn't get to last time.

I know it's out there.

Teasing me...

Because frankly - I'm really ready for him to leave.

And I look forward to having my three kids all to myself without the constant provocation I've dealt with the last few weeks. I'm looking forward to the quiet routine of my home - the way it used to be.

And yet - I can't quite imagine how I will function with the reality of this amazing little boy going back to the other side of the world.

As ready as I am, I know that my heart is just about to be torn in two, with a good chunk of it leaving America for good.

So I'm quiet.

I've really said it all before, haven't I?

I was down to two weeks once already.

And here I go again...