A body at rest stays at rest unless acted upon
Saturday morning – filled with shrieks of joy. Pancakes sizzle in the frying pan. Amelia carts off to gym with Micky. Luka and I sit and watch the late Premier League soccer game while testing the boundaries of how much a son can do to drive his father crazy without injury or death entering the equation.
Lunch. Nap time. Swimming.
A young family tradition of fish sticks after swimming fulfilled with a stroll through the aisles of Whole Foods on the way home. Often a cheese stick, a bunch of grapes, or a chocolate bar fall victim to the the grabbing hands of a toddler.
Dinner. Bath time. Curious George. Stories. Songs. Bed.
Then silence – an envelope of exhaustion and thought.
From the thought has been an overbearing sense of isolation – friends not seen (weeks, months, and years); phone calls not made; a series of physical connections lost.
A constant conflict between being present as a father, a husband, and a friend. Not knowing how to balance my own triumvirate, inertia decides. And inertia finds me at home with cartoons one moment, and wrapped in a blanket next to Micky falling asleep to a movie that only just started the next.
I miss my friends. Mea culpa for the moments lost. I adore my family, with no regrets for the memories created.
The conflict continues without resolution. Only a next chapter…