I‘ve never written a post on a plane before.
But here I am up in the sky and on my way to new adventure. The acid of the unknown has settled, finally fleeing along with the feeling that there’s something I’m forgetting – that emotional carry-on that seems to accompany every flight.
Before I land, I’d like to make a promise. But before I do I would like to say thanks to the trinity of people who have saturated my days and nights with their eternal support and unflinching faith.
You three have been there to see me type my fingers down to raw and blistered digits, to constantly inspire and encourage, and to hold me on the rare occasion when I finally vented a cry, wondering with shuddering tears if I would ever make it.
Cindy, you never doubted it. Mia, you never stopped reminding me I was the world’s best writer, no matter how many times I assured you I wasn’t. And Max, it would be impossible for you to love me any more. Believe me, buddy, the feeling’s mutual.
We set to render our online dreams to reality and we have, though at times we’ve had to hack through the hedges of Hades to get here. Back when we first started, our dreams were fresh, and they alone were enough to give us all the energy we needed. We worked the preschool by daylight, then flipped the candle and burned the other end until well past midnight. Night after night after night.
Write a fresh post, answer comments and emails, get my name out there as much as I could. Go to sleep spent, then wake up and do it again.
“I promise,” I said. “It won’t be this way forever.”
You believed in the dream.
We closed our school and the money dried immediately. We tightened our belts and prepared for hard times. Even poised, things were a high multiple worse than expected.
Our dream was clear, but far away. Like a mountain’s peak looming at the edge of an endless sweeping plain. Though we remained forever hopeful, we were under no illusions.
It would be difficult.
And it was.
Month after month our dreams mushroomed in cost and our horizon continued to pixelate. My ambition to write for a living shifted to cruel mockery. I dreamed of writing fiction and gorgeous prose that might someday pass between friends and lovers. In reality I wrote about lawnmowers, barbecues, DUI’s and auto warranties – when I was lucky.
I wrote garbage articles that no one would ever read. As much as I loathed them, I did my best to keep the smile on my face. The three of you needed to see it, and though the pay was pennies, pennies made dollars and we needed them badly.
Every morning you would rise, Cindy, to the tip-tip-tapping of my keyboard. Max would climb on one side and Mia on the other. My arms would snake around the smallish set of similar shoulders, but I kept tip-tip-tapping the entire time.
Off to school, then home again home again, jiggity gig… The sun low in the sky, Daddy was still tip-tap-tapping.
“Daddy needs more time,” Mommy would say, “But he’ll be down for dinner.”
A bite to eat, a glance at the homework, then back upstairs. Another few hours of hammering at the keys, racing to minimize the next days to-do’s while my mind tried to part the creeping fog that always seemed to settle in around midnight. Eventually, I’d slip into bed exhausted.
Cindy, I’m sorry for every night you waited up for a me who was too exhausted to speak. And I’m sorry for every night you waited on me, only to succumb to sleep before I arrived.
The seven day scheduled stretched for far too long. When we finally took the Macbook in to get the keyboard repaired, the Apple Genius said he’d never seen one so battered.
“I promise,” I said, looking all three of you in the eyes more times than I can count. “I’m only working this hard now so I won’t always have to.”
You all believed me because I’ve never let you down before.
Eventually the nickel and dime articles evaporated and David and I managed to build our business to a point where all our needs were being met. A growing list of happy clients were in love with our work, eager to book, and even willing to wait in line.
Then, after waiting so long for our patience to yield triumph, I’ve gone and laid it all on the line. I’ve embraced the gaping chasm of a certain unknown and pulled those I love most, once again into the trenches of risk.
And you haven’t flinched.
Cindy, your faith is unwavering as always. Max and Mia you both believe in me with a pristine perspective that I find both inspiring and entirely humbling.
Thank you.
The gentleman sitting to my left probably thinks me sad. It might be my red eyes and shallow breath, or the tear that’s nested at the edge of my eye, threatening to fall.
And though that tear will make good on its promise, I’m sure, before I finish this page, I am not sad in the least.
Just reflective.
Perhaps it’s being thousands of feet in the air, miles melting between us by the second. Or maybe it’s because I’m about to turn a decisive page in our family history. Could be because in another couple of hours I’m going to shake the hand of a man who has become impossibly important to all our lives, and yet whom I’ve not actually met until today.
I’ve taken the long way around my thoughts today. I suppose it’s because for the first time in I don’t know how long, I’m writing without hurry. I look outside the tiny window and see nothing but sky. I close my eyes and see nothing but the wide expanse of pregnant promise.
Despite my meandering thoughts, I’ve not forgotten my point.
I want need to make a promise.
I know these last two weeks have swallowed me and that it’s probably scary for you.
I know I promised I was only working so hard so that I wouldn’t always have to, and that in the last several days I’ve returned to some of my old, worst habits.
I know that we grow older each day, that there are no do-overs and that I owe all three of you the best possible life.
I’ve not forgotten a thing.
I promise that you will always come first and that if this change isn’t right for us, then it will not be right for me.
Years will pass and I will remember the chaos of the past two weeks, but the specifics will fade to haze.
But Max, I will ALWAYS remember out picnic adventure, “boys time” last Saturday and the way you made the most of every second we had together. I wish I could have been less distracted. You certainly deserve it. I promise I’m not oblivious. I misted you too.
Mia, I will always remember you coming home with Pepper, and a smile as wide as a sunset at sea. I know that your ”not wanting to talk about it“ was your way of silently saying, ”I really wish you wouldn’t leave, Daddy.“ You are my first born and my life has been richer every day and in every way for having you in it.
Cindy, I will always remember how you squeezed my hand tighter, thought harder and said more with your eyes than I can sometimes manage with a pen full of ink.
Thank you for trusting me through this transition. I promise my aim is true and we will hit our mark.
Mia, I’m sure you are reading. Would you please do me a favor and read this to your brother?
Max, tuck in the lip buddy, I’ll be home soon.
Cindy, thank you for everything. We are but two books in a single volume.
I love you all.
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