There will be tears.

Matt captured this moment about 15 years ago.

If you look closely you can see this sweet boy's tears rolling down his cheeks and onto my shoulder. The intensity of his grasp is visible as his little hand presses against my back. 

Oh, how I wish I could always swoop the boys up and comfort them.  

I wish that a hug and pep talk could make all sadness, disappointment, fear, or anger slip away.

But that just isn't the case.  The problems get bigger than a hug can resolve and the sadness may last longer than tears flow and dry up.

I don't think kids really understand parents' deep-rooted desire to comfort and heal until they have children of their own - they don't understand that a child's broken heart, trials, and frustration with life somehow transcend the space between our bodies and become our own.

As this little boy prepares to leave the reach of my arms, I hope that my role as a comforter, listener, and cheerleader can still be felt and heard despite the distance that will be between us.  And selfishly, I pray that he doesn't even need a big hug because everything will be just fine.