It's been (about) 2 weeks; 336 hours; 20,160 minutes.
I just wrote my first letter to you. It took me two attempts. I wasn't quite sure how to capture life to connect you to here. I wasn't even sure how much I wanted/needed to ground and connect you to here. Does the reality of home keep you grounded in your roots but also give you wings to fly? Will you receive the letter without consequence and repercussion? What do you want to know/feel/hear?
This blogging is my first best attempt to store the days, track the moments and process the changes happening. It doesn't fill the space and time that goes unfilled without you here.
Your bed is unmade. Your brothers have taken turns occupying it because they miss you. You have a few shirts "missing" because I miss you. You have well wishes and love of family and friends being sent your way across the space that divides and the time that moves forward.
We have (about) 8 weeks; 1,344 hours; 80,640 minutes. Fly high son...our roots are strong.
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