When he was a baby, he cried for hours on end each night. It wouldn't be until he was two that he would sleep through the night. I tried everything, read the books, listened to friends, wheedled, cajoled, brought him to bed with me, didn't bring him to bed with me, let him cry it out. It was horrible.
When he was a toddler he would walk around the house calling plaintively "Are you...arrre you?"--when I was in the bathroom.
Those years are gone.
The years of diapering and feeding and listening to him and meeting friends and girl-friends and travel and lessons and sports and...life. Are gone.
He is in Guam.
He flew from St. Louis, to Dallas, to Hawaii, to Guam.
He sent me a long note letting me know how he is, assuring me that things are fine, that there is a Beach on
Base, that he plans on snorkelling.
I reminded him to "remember" the signs of a Tsunami (the water recedes and does not return).
I could almost hear him sigh...