I miss them so much. The squeaky change in a voice about to ask or complain. The resolute blinking back of an emotion too strong for the moment. The quick smile of recognition at a clever tease or subtle compliment. The equally bold confidence in “Can I help” or “Can you help me?”
I miss the touch. The feel of hair ruffled through fingers, the casual lean of a long lanky body against a long lanky papa’s thigh. Fingers interwoven and pulled across the chest at snuggle time. Hot breath on my cheek, wet kisses on the nose, excited squeeze of the hand when a bird is spotted.
Mostly I miss the now. There’s still a purity in how they relate their day on the phone, but not the immediate universe explosion that is every new discovery of a 5 or 7 year-old. I want live-streaming, not the highlight reel. I want the highs and lows, but also the in-betweens, the nothings, the quiet dead spaces where so much happens under the surface.
The realness of their being and growth, and the depth our relationship (with my wife as well as my children), is in these still times. The times that are most unreachable over the long distance of a phone call. I do appreciate the miracle of cheap calls and free emails that let us stay connected while apart, but can’t wait until we can say it with a hug and twinkle at the airport tomorrow.
I need something to believe in
Breathe in sanctuary in the easy silence that you bring to me
It’s OK when there’s nothing more to say to me
And the peaceful quiet you create for me
And the way you keep the world at bay for me
- Dixie Chicks, Easy Silence