Every year, beginning in mid-December, Strava generates these cool year in review wrap-up graphics for subscribers who use its service. It’s kind of cool to see a snapshot of what all I’ve done in sport (mostly running) in the past 12 months.
Merry Christmas, and we hope this year’s newsletter finds you blessed and bright. It’s amazing that a whole week has already passed since I wrote the last newsletter. I know it hasn’t been a week, but it feels like it.
2024 for us has been a humdinger. A real hootenanny. And here I am, reflecting on it all. It’s hard to reflect on the past year in my head because I’m getting old. I went through some years where I’d find myself having walked into a room and then forget why I even walked into that room. There were a couple times when I’d find myself in the bathroom with my zipper pulled down and forget why I was in that room. Thankfully I could put two-and-two together on that endeavor. I told Elise if she finds me at the mailbox with my zipper pulled down then it’s time to put me in the home. Right now I’m at that stage in life where I’ll be sitting on the couch and be inspired by an immediate chore or task, I’ll stand up to tend to the task, and then find myself trying to remember why I even stood up in the first place.
Funny stuff aside, this year has been, for yours truly, in a word, hard. The tone was set in mid-January when I was fired from my job at the local run club. I’d never been fired from a job before so it really stung. What stung even more is that I was fired for unsubstantiated reasons. I’ll spare you the gory details, but over the course of the following 5 months there was a lot of anger and frustration, and eventually a hearing with the Texas Workforce Commission. Yours truly won but it made for a very stressful first half of the year and was a stark reminder to go with my gut when something’s not right, especially with workplace management.
I started a new job in mid-June and was quick to put all of those aforementioned frustrations behind me. Until I reminded myself of them for the sake of this newsletter. And now I’m all pissed off again and I was going to stand up and kick my chair but then I forgot why I stood up.
Elise celebrated her 1-year anniversary at Wilson Roofing this past October. You should see her now. She’s so tan and muscular from all of the roofs that she’s been installing that you wouldn’t even recognize her. She was hired on as the receptionist until they realized how muscular she is in the brain and ambition, so they moved her into an account management role where she does things like managing accounts and other account management duties. All I know is that she comes home and has all kinds of office antics to recount. Things like ugly sweater contests, toilets nearly overflowing, and customers and coworkers who tell her that they really appreciate her.
This year was a tough one for us as parents as we sent Maly off to college this past August. Steve (Elise’s dad) always reassures that we’ve given her strong roots and wings, and while Elise and I are confident that we’ve done a pretty okay job in raising her, it’s still just so damn hard when your child moves away. I know Elise and I share many feelings and emotions, but we still had and have our own. I think we both began our “grieving” early in Maly’s senior year of high school when we knew the inevitable was nearing. I think Elise did a better job of processing her emotions over a longer period of time throughout the school year. I also had many of my own moments and opportunities, but it really hit me hard after we dropped her off in Charleston, WV, came back home, and were thrust back into “normal” life. I was a weepy, emotional, depressed wreck for weeks after we left her. I’m doing much better now, but it took me a really long time to get to this point. More time than I’d honestly anticipated.
All of my sappy emotions aside, Maly is doing really well in college. She was recruited to play Division II women’s lacrosse, so she had a community and friend group going into her college experience. Lacrosse is a Spring sport, but the Fall semester included lots of practices, workouts, and scrimmages. She’s doing great academically as well. She has already changed her major from nursing to business. She’s learning to navigate life as an adult and make big decisions and we think she’s doing a damn good job of it. I guess we did do kind of an okay job with that whole roots and wings thing.
Mara started the 7th grade this year and is still our little loving and adorable baby. Although she’s not so little any more, nor is she a baby. Hell, she’ll be a teenager here in a few months. While she is getting into that teen phase and has become more independent and has her own thoughts and opinions and ideas on things, she remains her agreeable and easy-going self. She’s always been really good about going with the flow and taking life as it happens, and while I’m bad about telling her, I greatly admire that quality about her and she sets a really good example for me.
The age difference between our daughters didn’t really make for a close sister relationship as children, but when they said “goodbye” when we were leaving Maly at her dorm in August brought Elise and me to tears. It really hit Mara when it was time for that final hug goodbye. The girls both laughed in acknowledging that they both didn’t think it would be so hard to say goodbye to each other, and Mara was still crying in the van as we finally drove away. Being the young stoic that she is, she lightened the collective mood by telling us that she was excited to finally have the bathroom all to herself.
Mara still plays lacrosse for Southwest Area Girls Lacrosse and her season will be starting back up in February. Seventh grade is always when middle school gets more difficult and demanding and she’s been feeling it, but she’s been doing great and learning how to adapt. There have been times when Elise and I will start getting concerned about academics, organization and executive functioning, and then Mara will just get it all taken care of. Mara’s independence is her own, and Elise and I have to remind ourselves of that while we continue to do our job with that whole roots and wings thing.
The family dynamic is obviously different now with just the three of us in the house, and I don’t think we’ve quite settled into whatever the new normal is. This whole year has been met with all kinds of new. Elise and I both started new jobs. Maly moved 1,200 miles away for college. Mara became the only child in the house. And both cats now have osteoarthritis.
I don’t think I’ve mentioned the pets in a Christmas newsletter in a long time. We’ve had Loki (orange tabby), Mac (gray tabby) and Blue (Australian cattle dog/Husky mix) for well over a decade now. Elise and I are getting old and the pets are getting old too. Both cats have osteoarthritis. We’ve always kept the cat food up high, on the far side of the bar in the kitchen so the dog won’t eat their food. Now we have to lift both cats up to the bar so they can eat because they can no longer jump up. They both have old and tired back legs. Mac has diabetes, so we have to give him 4 units of insulin twice daily. I always joked that if we had pets that required that much maintenance I’d take them out to the pasture, which is really our tiny little suburban backyard. But they’re our pets, which means they’re part of the family and, well, I don’t think there’s really anything more important than family. I’d probably build little scooters for the cats if they get to the point where they can’t use their back legs any longer.
I admittedly put off writing this Christmas newsletter this year. I always become very conscious of it when thoughts and discussions of Halloween start to surface. And that’s when I start to think about how arduous the task is to recount everything that’s happened in the past year. I always joke about how bad my memory is and how I can’t even remember what I did yesterday, but that’s just me making light of the truth. So I’ll start to go through the photos that I’ve taken in the past year. And then that makes me all distracted and nostalgic and sappy. And many of the photos that I’ve taken often don’t have context, so then I’ll start scrolling through my Facebook account to see what all we’ve done in the past year. And then I’ll get mad at myself for not posting more stuff on Facebook, but I’ll remind myself that people who purportedly know more stuff about life than I do say that social media is bad and is a waste of your time. At that point, many hours, hell, probably days have gone by and I’ve forgotten why I was looking at all of my photos and Facebook posts from 2024 in the first place. And then before I know it, it’s time to rush and cram in the last bit of day job work, schedule that groan-worthy but necessary “I’ll be out for the holidays but I look forward to connecting after the New Year. Happy Holidays!” email autoresponder, family comes into town or we have to rush into the logistics of our family’s travel, and invariably there’s more presents to procure, and then, all of the sudden, it’s Christmas morning.
As I type this it’s December 29th. I’m really late in authoring the newsletter. I think this is the first year that I didn’t write this before Christmas Day. However, I’m one of those that believes in the 12 days of Christmas. Not so much as a religious observation and the leading up to Epiphany, but because I just really like Christmas. I love Christmas trees, the smell of pine and bald cypress, Santa Claus and his reindeer, presents, stockings, the lights, the Christmas movies, the food and the cookies, the music, and all of the fond memories that I have from my childhood Christmases, and now the many Christmas memories that I’ve amassed over the years with Elise, our daughters, and our family.
It’s December 29th and I’m sitting on the back deck and it’s 65 degrees outside. I just got bit by a mosquito on that meaty part between my thumb and forefinger on my left hand. Christmas eve and day have come and gone, just like any other date on the calendar. It didn’t feel like Christmastime outside on its eve or day this year in Austin as it was unseasonably warm. It doesn’t feel like Christmastime outside right now. It’s Sunday afternoon and it’s back to work for Elise and me tomorrow. If I’m being honest, I’m suffering from the Sunday Syndrome. I don’t want to go back to work and “normal” tomorrow. I’m dreading it. I want Christmastime to stay. But I know it can’t. The days will continue to come and go faster and faster, as they all seem to do nowadays, and another Christmas will be here before I know it, and I need to remind myself to continue cherish and love every Christmas, every day in between, and the family and friends who hold a place in our hearts on each and every one of those days.
While I was sitting out on this old deck writing this newsletter, I decided to set the mood and play some Christmas music. But I didn’t want the fun and traditional “Jingle Bells” and “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” Christmas music. I wanted something mellow, melancholy and introspective, so I found a coffeehouse Christmas playlist on Spotify and I let it play quietly in the background while I wrote. A song entitled “Christmas Always Finds Me” caught my ear, so I’ll leave you with a lyric that spoke to me. It’s a little reminder to lean on faith and love during the holidays.
“When silver bells and silent night
And mistletoe’s nowhere in sight
With no chance of snow falling down
Another year older
Little harder to believe
But somehow Christmas always finds me”
We hope this Christmastime is merry, bright and full of love and happiness for you and yours.
With our love and gratitude,
P.S. The archive of Christmas newsletters can be found here.
After our third annual Circle C Ranch Turkey Trot. I don’t get to see the family much on Thanksgiving morning. We happened to convene near the finish line and Brian grabbed this photo for us.
We had our usual Thanksgiving in Okeene, OK this past weekend. The only difference being that dropped Maly off at DFW on our way back to Austin so she could catch a flight back to school in Charleston. Her flight was canceled. She had to spend the night in Atlanta. She decided to sleep in the airport.
Today at 7:18 a.m. EST.
"Are you okay?"
"tired."
"Did you sleep at all?"
"barely"
"Anything exciting happen?"
"i watched a bunch of guys set up the Christmas tree at 2:30am"
"Sorry you had to sleep at the airport :-(. I guess the 'hard' part is over."
"I did laps around the airport. went through tsa. laid on the floor. got starbucks at 2am. tried all the bathrooms"
These are photos from when we arrived in NYC on November 1st. It was an hour long Uber ride from JFK into Manhattan where we spent our first night at the Westin New York Grand Central. Mara got to ride in her first NYC subway so we could go to the race expo at the Javits Center. I didn’t want to spend any more time at the expo than was necessary. I got my bib, my shirt, and we said hi to a couple friends and boogied out of there. The expo is crazy.
I didn’t realize it until I started combing through pictures, but I like the wide angle photo of the Javits Center where Mara is looking up. The building and the expo are pretty overwhelming.
On Saturday morning I admittedly bandited the Abbott Dash to the Finish 5k. I was in search of a shakeout run route. It was too far for me to walk to Central Park. Manhattan’s crazy and I don’t know the streets well. I started poking around Google and Instagram in search of something so I could get in my shakeout. Low and behold, there was a 5k that would be passing right in front of our hotel. So I decided I’d just hop in, run 1.5 miles, turn around and head back home. Well, as I exited our hotel, there were a bunch of runners walking to the start. So I just got on board and walked with everyone to the start. And I jumped in after the barricades and did the best job of being a non-impeding bandit as I could be. I got a little caught up in the energy and decided to run the entire 5k, all the way to the marathon finish line in the park. So my little shakeout wound up being 7 miles.
When I got home I made a donation to the New York Road Runners. It doesn’t make up for me banditing, but it was something.
Later that morning we stopped at Comfort Diner for breakfast. I carefully topped of glycogen stores. Then we humped it 15 blocks to our new accommodations. Elise made a friend on the way. They talked about life, politics, and women’s rights.
Terri & Craig arrived later that afternoon while Elise and Mara were out site seeing and getting their nails done. The night came early. Everyone was looking to me to decide on dinner since I had the big race in the morning. I settled on Greek. The cheaper and easier the better. Our concierge had us going to fancy places. I opted for the joint down the street so we could just salads, gyros, hummus, and a lot of pita.
I reviewed logistics, went over my plan, put my kit together, and went to bed at 9:00 p.m. Elise and Craig studied the map so while I was out running 26 miles, they could find the vantage points to see me.
I don’t know if I’d call it a ritual or a tradition, but I’ve written something on my thigh for my last few bigger races. What I write is something very special to me and gives me motivation and inspiration when the race starts to get hard. While training for and running NYC I thought about Maly a lot. My firstborn who couldn’t be at the race with us. She was a big reason why I started running. She moved 1,300 miles away to go to college while I was in this training block. There were lots of thoughts and tears shed on those runs.
I didn’t look at my leg until around mile 18. That’s when I needed it, and I’m glad it was there. I’d picked up the pace at mile 16 and I knew the last 10 miles where going to be tough. My my real A Goal was to run a negative split at the NYC Marathon, something that most people will tell you is very difficult to do on that course.
The goal was 3:09:30. I came in at 3:04:04 and I did run a negative split. It wasn’t a marathon PR (“personal record”). It was my 3rd fastest marathon, but it was, by far, my best executed marathon and my proudest marathon performance to date.
The rest of the afternoon called for a lot of walking. We went back to the hotel so I could shower and change, and then back out the door again for a much-needed Reuben sandwich at P.J. Clarke’s. Oh, we ordered pizza through Uber Eats.
Monday was Craig’s birthday so he and I went for a recovery run through the park.
Lots of walking the rest of the day. We toured and had lunch in Chelsea Market (that’s lobster poutine up there). Down to Battery Park and the High Line. We saw Lady Liberty and the 9/11 memorial and museum. I don’t remember what we did that night. I think the adults went to St. Regis for $63 martinis and Mara and I hung back and watched TV. It was getting late, folks were getting hangry, and decisions were not wanting to be made, so we went downstairs to street vendor for some horrible hot dogs and knishes.
Tuesday was a lot of walking too. And subway rides. We walked 5th Ave and Maddison. We tried to get some custom lacrosse shoes made at the Nike store. We went into Chinatown and had lunch and gelato in Little Italy. Then back to midtown so Elise and Mara could finally see and walk through the park. Mara walked back with Terri and Craig while Elise and I moseyed through the park and all the way down 5th Ave back to our place past some election day craziness.
For our final night we saw The Outsiders at the Bernard B. Jacobs Theatre. I’m not a musical guy, but it was a great show (helped that I read the book for the first time a year ago). The family loved it. Terri, Elise, and Mara were all brought to tears.
Off season playday on October 20, 2024 against the University of West Virginia Wesleyan.
It’s bittersweet when your child still has “firsts” in her adult life and you can’t be there to witness, cheer, celebrate, and tell her how proud you are of her in person.
Entrance to the fair: $75
Three tickets to ride the Ferris wheel: $20
Cotton candy: $6
Taking the child to the fair again before she’s too old to experience a fair’s wonder: priceless
And the sky was dark and the moon was a beautiful yellowish orange crescent. We listened to Chappell Roan and I had that thought that one day, probably in the not-too-distant future, I’ll long for the days when we lived in our house in Austin near the park and my youngest daughter was still young.
While she’s been enjoying college and playing lacrosse, she’s really been looking forward to coming home. She plays it cool, but admitted that she’s been homesick. She wanted her own bed, her house, HEB, barbecue, and her boyfriend.
Elise, Maly, Jared, Mara and I went to the Salt Lick on Friday night. Elise and I couldn’t remember the last time we’d be there; I think the last time was before Mara was born. It was nice to go back there. It wasn’t crowded. There wasn’t a line. Our waiter was great. The food was great. We all got to talk, and we just had a nice time.
I think my favorite part was the drive out to Driftwood. And I reminded Maly of it. Her very first job was at Vista Brewing, which is out in Driftwood. She got that job right before she got her driver license and I used to drive her to and from work. And even after she got her license, and after she got her first car, I’d still drive her to and from work because we were nervous about her driving on 1826 at night. It’s a narrow, two-land farm-to-market road, and Driftwood has a lot of breweries and vinyards, and Maly just didn’t have enough driving experience at the time. And she didn’t seem to mind the ride to work.
While our house is on the outskirts of southwest Austin and close to Driftwood, it’s still a bit of a drive out into the “country.” It reminds me of growing up in Cat Spring and commuting into Bellville for school or work or Tae Kwon Do when I was in high school.
Often times the ride to work or home was mostly quiet, but it was time that she and I had together. I don’t know if she remembers or cares as much as I do, but those are good memories for me. I fondly remember the cool, dark Fall evening drive, especially when I was on my way to pick her up from work. I think it was on those drives that I would try to come to terms with the fact that life was happening fast. One day you’re holding your baby in your arms and she needs you more than anything else in the world. And the next thing you know, she has a job and you try to help her navigate having a job and money and bosses and coworkers, and creeping up from the back of your mind is the notion that she’ll move out one day and start a life on her own.
And you can’t help but hope she knows that you gave it your absolute best, and as much as it hurts that she’ll have to move on and make a life of her own, she will always have home.
Dad died 18 years ago today. Eighteen years is a lifetime. A journey into adulthood. There has not been a single day in these past 18 years that I haven’t thought about him.
I know I disappointed him a lot when I was a young man. It’s taken me 18 years to learn that he knew it was a part of my growing up and figuring out this life. He pulled me out of the proverbial ditch more times than he probably should have. He let me sit in the ditch too, when he knew I needed to sit in the ditch.
I still miss him as much as the day he left us. I still wish I could see him or call him and ask him the questions that could help me navigate life and fatherhood.
“Your dad has given you everything that you will ever need. Now God needs him.” That’s what my counselor told me when I yelled at her because I was angry at God for taking my dad too soon.
Very often I look up to the stars in the early morning and I can sense him with me. I try very hard and as best as I can. I like to think that he’s proud of me.
His oldest granddaughter is 18 years old now. He got to know her for her first five months of life. He never got to meet Mara. He’d love the hell out of her. He’d love being around them both and watching them grow, just like I do.
Eighteen years is a lifetime. It’s a long time, but it’s also just a wink from a star in the sky.
I’m totally overdue in posting about last weekend. I thought I’d start posting little galleries of the goings on of the previous week and weekend because I’m noticing that memory has turned to absolute garbage. And sometimes I like to read old posts to see what we were up to at certain times in our lives, whether those times were of any consequence or not.
Last Friday we went to the Westlake v. Atascocita football game. Maly’s boyfriend, Jared, is starting left offensive guard, we’ve made friends with his dad, siblings, aunt, and uncle, and, well Westlake football is on a whole other level of high school football. While it was a great game, Westlake lost 39-21, breaking its 44 regular season home game winning streak.
Saturday morning was the regular big group run for the Circle C Run Club. I don’t know what our streak is, but we’ve all been running together at 7:00 a.m. on Saturday mornings since 2018. Elise and I dropped the Jeep off at Firestone because its had some faulty fuel injector wiring. After dropping off the Jeep, we hopped over to Goodwill to get rid of some clothes and for some thrifting.
Maly went on a roadtrip to Roanoke Virginia with some friends from school. The northeast is funny. You can just take a two hour roadtrip for a weekend in another state.
Sunday was my first 20-miler in this training block for the NYC Marathon. I’ve never run the NYC Marathon before, but I know it has some hills, so I planned a route in the Northwest Hills of Austin. The run was great. I mean, running 20 miles involves a certain level of suck, but when you now what you’re getting yourself into, you just sort of learn how to deal with the suck.
I’ve been struggling again this week with Maly being so far away at college. I think what did it was when we talked to her over FaceTime on Sunday evening. All week I get excited and can’t wait to talk to her and tell her all the things that I want to tell her. And then on Sunday’s FaceTime call all I wanted to do is stare at and dote on her, just like when she was a little child.
It doesn’t help that we’ve had a little “false Fall” for the past four days. It’s been in the 50’s in the morning and the humidity is almost non-existent. It feels like Fall. We’ll get another heat wave this week, but the change in temperature and daylight hours have become noticeable.
I walked Mara to school this morning. So far this week I’ve taken the “long way” home. It’s a half mile walk to school. I take a detour on the way back to the house that makes the walk back a mile. It’s been nice outside in the mornings. I’d much rather be walking than sitting at a desk.
I was walking through our little section of the neighborhood. Up off Allerton, on Colberg, on Gaur. I just started thinking about all the times we’ve walked those streets on Halloween night. All the miles we’ve probably put on those streets and sidewalks with Ray, Julia, Nico, Eve, Ava, Emma, Elsa, Kellen, and kids I might’ve forgotten.
I walked by Maly’s old friend Avery’s old house. I’d dropped Maly off at Avery’s house many times. They used to be best friends in middle school. I don’t really know what happened with that relationship. Avery’s parents got divorced, and Avery and her mom eventually moved away. I guess it was a proximity thing. And making new friends. And, just moving on.
It’s amazing how a chapter just closes in a child’s life. And I guess that same chapter closes in your life. But you’re not the one who’s reading or writing the chapter. You’re just a listener. An observer.
I find myself longing for those past times. I have regrets that I didn’t really take in those little moments. Like all of the miles and hours covered and spent on Halloween nights. I was being an obliging parent. I wish I would’ve been a more in-tune listener and observer. I wish I would’ve been more present in those minutes instead of whatever else I was thinking about or doing. Like concerning myself with the immediate future, or anxiously awaiting for this inconvenient phase of childrearing to pass.
I wish I would’ve been more trusting and appreciative of my children’s friends. I wish I would’ve known to see them as the important parts that they played, and hopefully still play, in my girls’ lives and vice versa.
But what I really wish is that I had a better memory. I swear the last 18 years have flown by. Elise has a better memory than me, and I like to hear her recount stories of times with our kids with greater detail. I have photos but I often wish I had more photos.
I think I’ll keep taking the long way home every morning and hopefully I can unearth some of those old photos in my head while at the same time reminding myself to be very present in the moment.
It’s hard to believe that three days have already passed since we saw Maly. We said our goodbyes on Saturday night and we had to be up at 4:00 a.m. the next morning to catch our early flight back to Austin. We had a full Sunday back at home. Monday was our last official day of Summer break with Mara. Elise and I both took the day off of work. Elise and Mara went shopping for school clothes. I don’t remember Monday. I’ve been in a fog.
Mara started school on Tuesday.
Monday night was hard because it was the end of summer. Mara really got the ass end of summer this year. Elise started her new job back in October which requires her to be at the office during the day. I started my new job in June which requires me to be camped out and unavailable during the day. And because of new jobs we weren’t able to travel or do much of any noteworthy weekday daytime activities. Poor Mara was pretty much just camped out in her room all summer. And as a parent, well, that just makes you feel like crap.
Elise went back to work on Tuesday.
I’d barely been at my job for 6 weeks and had no vacation time, so our travels to Charleston for orientation and moving Maly to school were unpaid. As I as planning my my time off for Maly’s move-in, I decided to take Tuesday off as well. I already wasn’t getting paid for a whole week, so I figured one more day wouldn’t add much to the damage. I voluntarily shared our itinerary with my boss, and told her that I wanted to also take Tuesday off for a “mental health day.” I told her I’d probably just hang out by myself in the house all day and cry. I will say that I really like my boss. I have since day one. She totally understood and made no bones about me taking all the time that I needed.
I decided to make Tuesday a good day. We got Mara off to school. She woke up early. She was a little bummed and apprehensive, but also a little excited about starting 7th grade. Elise and I both walked her up the hill to school and it was like back to normal again. After hugs and kisses and goodbyes, Mara was off to start her new school year. Elise and I walked back home together. She had to rush off and get to work.
And then I was by myself. Just as I’d imagined and planned. I was going to commence my good day. I already had most of my day planned…
I went for my scheduled run. I went out later than I would’ve normally liked, but that was okay. I was able to catch up on some sleep. I didn’t feel rushed on Mara’s first day of school. And I had the day off, so I was in no hurry. It was a hard 40 minute tempo run that I didn’t start until 9:00 a.m. I was already pouring sweat halfway into my warm-up. I focused on being in the moment – in that run – and reminded myself that while it hasn’t been in the forefront, I do have the NYC Marathon coming up in a few months and I have a specific goal time that I’m training for.
The rest of day was going to be relegated to posting Mara’s first day of 7th grade photos, and then I was really excited to just kick back and scroll through everyone else’s first day of school photos on Facebook. Then I’d eat. Maybe take a nap. Maybe read. Maybe watch a movie.
I got through posting Mara’s first day of school photo and loving every first day of school photo that I could find on Facebook. And then I started scrolling through 18 years of photos in my Google Photos library and started sobbing. It was healthy sobbing, but it got to the point where it was starting to become draining. So I moved about the house. But everywhere I turned there are pieces and reminders of Maly. I kept crying. I went through a few fits of those chest-heaving sobs. Once when I was just standing in front of the sink in the kitchen. The dog even raised her head as she lay on the carpet in the living room because she knew something was wrong.
I decided to really punish myself and took my laptop into Maly’s room and I sat at her desk and watched old videos of her. And then I went into my closet and pulled out the plastic bin of old cards — birthday, Father’s Day, Christmas cards. I went through a few handfuls of those and tried to recount their presentation, probably at the kitchen table.
My relaxing afternoon turned into a flood of emotions and sorrow and missing Maly. I thought about calling her, just to hear her voice, but I didn’t want to be selfish and subject her to a babbling and crying dad.
I don’t know if it was the right thing to do, but I wrote her an email. I thought about texting her but I have a tendency to be long with written words. So I figured an email would work. I guess I just needed to let it out. I just wanted her to know that I love and miss her and that this is arguably one of the hardest bouts of emotions that I’ve ever had to contend with.
I told her about how so badly I wanted to just fly up to Charleston, scoop her up, and bring her back home to live with us forever. But I also told her how selfish that would be, and unfair to the both of us.
I don’t remember everything that I wrote, and it would probably be a long time before I went back and read that email, if ever. I just really wanted her to know that I love her and miss her. I feel like I can never say “I love you” enough. And I worry that I didn’t say it often enough when she was still just in the other room. Or when she was just down the street at work. Or at school. Or driving around with her friends.
This photo is of the blister in the center of my palm that is healing. It’s a blister that I earned from driving screws through a 1-inch common board and into Maly’s dorm room headboard with a screwdriver. I had to fabricate legs for her headboard so they could attach to her bed frame. I had limited tools available to me, so a bit of pressure was required to drive screws into the headboard. The blister hurt at the time, and was in an inconvenient location. But it’s a physical reminder, albeit a small one, of what I’ll do for my child. In a way, I wish it would never heal. I wish it would leave a scar.