From August 31, 2020
I miss my life. Slowly over time it eroded and got away from me. I miss being present at home, wrestling with the kids and having hours at a time with no worries. What I long for is connectedness—connectedness to God, to Elliot, to Anne, to the children, to friends, to myself.
Elliot is like the rose in The Little Prince. He is out there on a distant planet, and I am connected to him by love, but that connection is like a wispy strand that seems so fragile. Everyone else seems so far away too. They are far away because I am far away. I am inattentive. I forget to water and prune.
When I look up at the stars at night, I swear I can hear Elliot twinkling in the sky. But when the clouds overshadow the earth, I wonder is my little rose still safe? Did anyone remember to put the vase over him at night so he wouldn’t get cold? Did the muzzle on the sheep last, so he wouldn’t get eaten? The universe is so grand and so frightening and my little rose only has four tiny thorns to protect itself.
