A convoy of vehicles accompanied us to the airport. One final demonstration of how the Herberts and their friends always show up, capturing the magic of what it looks like when a community of strangers, for the sake of love, become family.
We stood as a group in front of the elevator doors where the six of us would go ahead, returning to a land we knew as home, though our little ones could barely remember it. What they knew now is a yellow home in Woodland Hills that welcomed us as if we belonged there.
Mama and Baba Micah, who walked every single step alongside us for 477 days, would stay behind. Their love carried us, and now we were giving final hugs.