You left on your work trip on Monday morning, and you're due back Thursday evening. I know there are couples who go longer without seeing one another. I know there are jobs that could require you to venture even further away than you've gone -- California is not the end of the world. And yet -- all I can think of is how much I miss you.
The baby's growing, love. He's been walking -- WALKING, not toddling -- all over since you left, and now even attempts jogging, as if it's tremendously urgent that he get from point A to point B in as little time as possible. He bellows while he walks, too, and it makes him sound like he's late for an important meeting. "Joyce! JOYCE! Get those documents bound for me while I go down to the copy room to pick up my business cards. HURRY!" Today I thought I heard him say both "Thank you" and "All done" in the midst of his babbling, and I felt those little words hit me full in the chest, like physical blows. How many more major milestones will he approach or meet while you're gone? And when will I ever get used to the sheer astonishment I feel when he does something like that?
I've been at mom's house every day with boy, as you know, hanging out with her while she recovers from surgery. So I haven't been home a lot while you've been away, but even the few waking hours I have here without you are too many. Without you here, the house has lost its vital spark -- the rooms seem to gape with emptiness, and I wish I could hear the click of your mouse from the office, or the sounds of FIFA '09 from the game room upstairs, because it would mean you would be here.
I find myself being super productive these nights. When you're here, I want nothing more than to have the chance to grab a shower after the boy's in bed, then cuddle up with you on the couch to watch "The Office" together, or maybe "Heroes." Sometimes you play PS3 games while I tap away on my laptop or read, and just having our legs entangled on the same couch is enough. I miss, as we've always expressed it, having you within a four-foot radius.
Please come home. I'm lost without you. I realized that if the modem or server or router or network or whatever-the-hell-we-have crashes, I don't know how to fix it. I don't know where the next book of checks is, or whether the phone bill is due. Tonight I ate bread and feta cheese for dinner, because if you're not here, why cook? (You know I love bread and feta cheese, so it's not like it was a huge sacrifice, but still.) I'm too short to turn off the smoke alarm if the steam from a hot shower sets it off. And if there's a roach -- MY GOD, IF THERE'S A ROACH. I will do what's necessary, but you'd better get back here quick, man.
Most of all, love, I need you here to look at boy with me. Not WATCH him -- LOOK AT him. There's so much of him to soak up that I feel brimmingly full with the doing of it alone. He is perfect and lovely and a little toot and our boy, and I need you here to help me adore him, to help me remember everything, to make sure we don't miss a second of his growing-up that we don't have to. We both have amazing family members who love him dearly, and they're valiantly doing their share this week -- but it's not the same, love, and I need you here to help me catch my breath from the sheer beauty of him. Today, he burst into delighted giggles when I stomped my tennis shoes around on the tile floor of my mom's house, and the sound went straight through me in the purity of its joy.
I want you to help me bear how happy I am, how perfect he is.
Please hurry home. I love you.
I miss you.
Love,
me.
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