So, yeah. This is the thing I want to overcome. I don’t want to not miss her, (as Rebecca points out, and which I always like to hear, helps to remind me of the coping strategies) I just want to not freak the fuck out. I don’t need to hyperventilate, I don’t need to jump into a rabbit hole of anxiety laden tears. It doesn’t do Xochitl any good. It doesn’t do me any good.
I still feel good about her and my love for her if I don’t freak out. She feels my love. She wants my hugs. She wants to spend time with me. And I want to hug her and feel her love. We miss each other. That is ok. She will be ok. I imagine her in pain. And she may be in some emotional pain, but it will be short lived. She will get up, and go to school in the morning and her friends will distract her. Or her father will comfort her. She’ll bury her head in his voluminous beard and wish for me like I am wishing for her. And then she will fall asleep. And hopefully I will too. We will wake up in the morning I’ll be thinking about bears, and peeing, and getting ready for the day of hiking, and her. And she will be wondering if it is 7:00a.m. or later so she can have her iPad. And maybe she is thinking of me. And if not, that is ok. It is not her job.
It has come down to freaking out because I can’t just hug her. I can’t drive an hour and be hugging her at school while she pushes me away so she can run out to the slide or play with her friend.
I guess I freak out, in particular at the beginning of a trip because the days stretch ahead to seeming infinity. However, they are not infinite. They have a finite number of hours (because in AK the sun is not rising and setting right now) and the trip will end. And I hope that the trip will end and I will have enjoyed it, loved it, cherished it. I want to have stories and descriptions for her. Soon i’ll be home telling her all about my trip, showing her photos, and telling her that I can’t wait to take her.
And wishing I were back on the Tundra.
No comments:
Post a Comment