The Shortest Distance
July 26, 2016
Dearest Solomon,
I hate the days when I have to leave you. It really does feel like you are starting to understand that more and more. When I got home, you did your usual happy dance — where you kind of go in circles and then make the rush to the gate to greet whoever is arriving.
I eventually got inside and grabbed a seat on the ground near the couch. You came next to me, stood with the assistance of the couch, and gave me a two-arm hug. I don’t think you’ve done this before ever. I was so happy and proud, I showed Meena and your mom. Then you proceeded to lick my face — was that a kiss? And off you went.
When I got home, I was looking forward to having a while to get you settled, to pack, have dinner with mom, and then make my way to the airport. Unfortunately, that’s precisely how things didn’t go.
I had to leave in a rush tonight — before I had a chance to really say goodbye. Turns out that my flight at 11:50pm was delayed for an hour which would have made me miss my first meeting in NYC. So as you were busy in your bath, at 6:30pm, I had to switch my flight to the 8:45pm — which meant I had to get ready, pack, and make it to the airport in about an hour.
We got your bath done, dressed you for bed, and then I had to rush through one story with you before handing you to mom for the night. I always look back when I leave the room and, once again, I saw you glance my way before the door closed.
Rush. Rush. Rush. And I’m off.
As I sat crammed in the middle seat waiting to take off, I thought of how much I miss you when I am gone and how much I looked forward to returning. I jotted this down:
They say the shortest distance between two points is a straight line.
They say that a circle is the smallest, most compact shape imaginable.
They say distance makes the heart grow fonder.
They say that time heals all wounds.
They say perfection is unobtainable.
So what’s a heart? Is it not two circles connected by a straight line? Equidistant halves, symettrical? Impervious to time, not having a start or finish? Filled with and surrounded by love? Impossible to destroy.
Sounds like you and me. Sounds perfect as can be. Thought they said that couldn’t be?
Call me sentimental — I’ve been called worse.
Love always,
Dad (from NYC)
