That thing about not crying when leaving DC worked out a little bit so-so. Almost a whole hour into the flight I just stared out through the window while sobbing, yet trying to be brave. The remaining six or so hours, I watched a few movies and my eyes filled up a little too easy during all the cheesy "I love you"-moments.
Oh well. Some 24 hours after departure from American soil, I landed in my hometown and was greeted by one of my brothers, with the cutest baby in the world on his arm, a mustache on his upper lip and a welcome home sign in his hand.
Thank God for good reunions when you just had a heartbreaking farewell.