The homefront has little excitement to report. Our gaggle of children have all gone their separate ways in readiness for my return to work, which has left me bereft in of itself and surrounded by silence. I no longer have the comfort of their joyous and riotous distraction. So now, I am left with just me and the golden moments of time we steal to speak.
I could not have anticipated the gouging sensation this separation leaves in me. Home is much too quiet and far too cold in your absence. Even the usual happy ritual of being dragged from bed to make pre-dawn coffee has become a chore without your deep tones shifting to soft giddiness to draw me from our bed with you.
The bed itself is a glaring symbol of this temporary loss. A whole half, where I would normally encroach to sink into closeness, has become a no mans land which I regard with a quiet sadness as I wait for you to reoccupy.
While I wait with this weight of being without you, I see my temporary grief cut through with pride as we speak for mere minutes of your work. Your purpose has returned as you speak of exercising your capabilities to help, in that way that switches on the light (in you and in the world), and I know that the value of this time of sorrow is far greater than you anticipated. So I am happy to suffer it.
All my love
My letter is a reply to this letter by That Boy.