I am going to finish writing your letter today while I watch your older son’s last game of the season. Yes, he took your advice, and he made the defensive coach so excited that he put A in almost the entire game. He was dragging two boys at a time to get across the line! I took some pictures, and I will send them, as well, not just of that, but of some of my food, as you’ve been asking.
It makes me feel bad to send you pictures, as you don’t get to eat like this right now, but I just tell myself that you’ve been wanting to lose that last twenty pounds, and you couldn’t do that here!
I can’t wait to cook for you again, all your favorite things, like chicken and dumplings and fresh pinto beans with a piece of that good old timey salted ham sliced in them.
You have always been a sucker for bread, so I’d always put extra dumplings in the pot, just for you and the boys. Remember how you used to help me once I made the dough and rolled that long, thin sheet across the counter? Sometimes it would take up half the length! There’d be flour dust all over, and crumbs on the floor, but you didn’t care…I let you cut the dumplings into all as many little squares as you wanted, even if I had to stir extra long, and keep adding milk and broth because your dough always soaked up the soupy goodness. You’d have little sticky particles in your brows or goatee’, and I would grab you around the neck and lick your forehead, biting your eye brows for fun. I miss irritating you like that.
Your baby son is still blaring away at his trumpet, and being his usual instigating self, but I’m getting better at taking a deep breath and walking away. I understand now that when he is hurting, he has to give someone else pain to lessen his own. He had a meltdown yesterday, and cried, talking about some of his sadness and frustration over all that is our life.
I asked him finally what he wanted for Christmas if he could only have one thing, working to change the subject,
and ease his heart a little. I thought he might want a special DS game, or something for the XBox,
and I know I have to lay it away soon, if so.
“I want daddy to come home,” was all he said.
You hear that, God?
Will you remember your promise?