This afternoon my lovely Boywonder flies back to Montreal for his new university semester and, because he is required to take extra elective subjects, he won’t be back until June. It’s the longest he’s been away from home and I shall miss him hugely. I’ve been trying to put this to the back of my mind all through his 18 days with us and I’m not taking him to the airport but I am finding it almost impossible to cope with at the moment.

When I was the Boywonder’s age – he’ll celebrate his 21st birthday in Canada in a few weeks’ time – I was never homesick. To my subsequent shame, I didn’t ever look back, and when I was at home, I longed to be away but he is much more of a homebody and I think he’s finding it hard too. I’m wondering whether my parents missed me this much when I went away.

My friend Ann, who sits next to me in choir, reminds me that this feeling never goes away. One of her grown-up sons lives with his family in Australia. He came back for a family reunion this Christmas and she hadn’t seen him for 2 years. Even before he arrived, poor Ann was fretting and upset about parting from him again and I understood perfectly well what she meant. I suppose we all move on, we have to, but the feelings remain the same.