Flags, lawn chairs, and people lined the streets. We heard the drums in the distance, signaling the start of the parade.
"Is the king about to come?" my 8-year-old son asked.
I giggled inwardly, but looked at him with adoring eyes.
"In Morocco, yes. But this is different. We're in America getting ready to celebrate their Independence Day. America has a president, and he won't come to this parade."
Ah, the life of a child growing up in more than one culture!
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I have just recently started to feel like I’m catching a glimpse of the “other side” of my loneliness . . . after six long months here in my native-born country. My heart has been aching with loneliness . . .
These are the same feelings I experience every time I land overseas. These feelings seem to follow me wherever I go.
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We first arrived in Morocco with two little boys, ages three and five, in tow. Imagine the scene—piles of suitcases, hungry children, sleep-deprived parents. Our boss and his family were out of the country on vacation, and…
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