i've never been good at goodbyes. at my best, i just plain hate them. at my worst, i suffer from separation anxiety.

i felt this way every time i left my mom at the princess margaret lodge while she was in town getting treatment. i would jump on the GO bus every night when i finished work in mississauga and make my way to toronto to meet her for dinner. at times, i would just sit with her as she gratefully ate her hospital food, and other times, we'd walk to the nearest subway a few blocks away for a treat.

but eventually the clock would hit 8:00, and, as per her orders, i would have to start my journey home.

"it's getting dark, honey", she'd say.

and so i would (very reluctantly) get my jacket on and walk the long and dreadful hallway until i reached the front door, treasuring every step i got to take with her along the way.

"love you, mom" i'd say as i kissed her cheek.

"love you, too, paula", she'd reply. "get home safe."

and that was that. another dinner date gone, another day of radiation complete.

but without fail, i would turn around at the end of the sidewalk only to see her waving at me through the double-paned window.

and i would wave back with tear stained cheeks.

because, well, i've never been good at temporary goodbyes, either.