Missing Daddy. Missing George. A Missing Piece.





George will be back tomorrow.
He's been in London for five days.
Five days of Oxford and presentations.
Five days of pubs with ale, good steak and mushroom pie.
Five days of tea and coffee in little corner spots
That are so tiny, he can't hardly sit inside.
There was camping out two nights in a tent
Then visits with friends from Durham days.

We've made it through.
We've taken care of the sheep and chickens.
We've played outside under a warm sun.
We went on the perfect hike across the pasture and through the woods
Harvest Fests. Hay rides.
Grandmother. Drawing. Dancing. Spinning in new skirt.
Airplanes. Big boxes. Music. Shooting darts at balloons
Then target practice on the white board bulls eye.
When the children sleep, the silence is golden and awkward.

This task -- raising children and waiting for one to come is massive.
We've all missed daddy with tears, with frustration, with trying to buck the system.
The days that were slow, slowed again.
And now with 3.5 weeks left to go, I'm pretty sure time will slip away.

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