You're so far away
Doesn't anybody stay in one place anymore
It would be so fine to see your face at my door
Guest Blog from Henry Hill
I miss them already.
Gate 61…my old friend…my old nemesis. This life is as old as my daughter is young. Leaving was extra tuff this time. We worked so hard to make the most of 30 hours; to spend as much time with each other as possible but in the end, it’s never enough. I am learning that all the advice from books, employees, management courses, TV, internet, bar room psychologists, friends, strangers and family is useless when you give that hug and kiss good buy and she starts to cry.
I miss them already.
My baby is my life. I would jump in front of a bus to protect her. When she runs and hides, expecting me to come find her, I’m filled with so much emotion. I don’t know who is more anxious: I slowly walk down the hard wood hall making sure that every step has enough force to rumble the entire house. With each thundering pound of my foot, I hear the giggling coming from the same place as always…behind the yellow curtains in her room, there is a spot just big enough for a 20 pound ball of joy. She can’t hold back; she gives herself away every time. I’m right there now; I land my final blow and growl. She can’t take any more; the anxiety takes over and she rolls over, exposing her position. The game ends with kisses and hugs. I’m missing the good years.
I miss them already.
This last time I brought flowers and candy home with me. The candy is gone but the flowers have started to open. Before I left, they were moved from the kitchen to the bedroom. I want them to be the day’s first gentle reminder of how much I care and love her. She wants that too. We will talk daily for the next two weeks and when I’m unavailable, she will leave funny messages on my phone; I already long for the first one. I save them to be played over and over.
I miss them already.
Nice one, Henry.
I miss them already.
Gate 61…my old friend…my old nemesis. This life is as old as my daughter is young. Leaving was extra tuff this time. We worked so hard to make the most of 30 hours; to spend as much time with each other as possible but in the end, it’s never enough. I am learning that all the advice from books, employees, management courses, TV, internet, bar room psychologists, friends, strangers and family is useless when you give that hug and kiss good buy and she starts to cry.
I miss them already.
My baby is my life. I would jump in front of a bus to protect her. When she runs and hides, expecting me to come find her, I’m filled with so much emotion. I don’t know who is more anxious: I slowly walk down the hard wood hall making sure that every step has enough force to rumble the entire house. With each thundering pound of my foot, I hear the giggling coming from the same place as always…behind the yellow curtains in her room, there is a spot just big enough for a 20 pound ball of joy. She can’t hold back; she gives herself away every time. I’m right there now; I land my final blow and growl. She can’t take any more; the anxiety takes over and she rolls over, exposing her position. The game ends with kisses and hugs. I’m missing the good years.
I miss them already.
This last time I brought flowers and candy home with me. The candy is gone but the flowers have started to open. Before I left, they were moved from the kitchen to the bedroom. I want them to be the day’s first gentle reminder of how much I care and love her. She wants that too. We will talk daily for the next two weeks and when I’m unavailable, she will leave funny messages on my phone; I already long for the first one. I save them to be played over and over.
I miss them already.
Nice one, Henry.
posted by Joe at
7:18 AM
2 Comments
