As my sons, Callum, then 19 and Jamie, 16, gazed out at the New York skyline from the top of the Empire State Building, I felt full of joy.
‘Mum, this is brilliant,’ Jamie, or Jay as he was better known, grinned.
It was February 2020 and me and my partner Jem, then 44, had taken my two boys to the Big Apple.
We were having the trip of a lifetime.
‘Can we come back?’ Jay asked me.
‘Of course,’ I laughed. ‘But you might not want your mum tagging along with you next time.’
