Missing You

I’ve missed you.

I’ve missed sitting down, sparking thought like a current through my fingers, then standing satisfied.

I miss the reflection and the typographical look in the mirror.

But I’m happy. Really, really happy.

For those of you who don’t read Ghostwriter Dad, Dave and I have started working with Lori Taylor and her awesome team at REV Marketing.

Turns out, I’m not just there to be a writer.

I’m there because of my quick brain and fluid ideas, for my ability to see the bright side of most anything and because I adapt well and with admirable speed. I’m there for my wit, and for a smile you can probably see between the lines of an email. I’m there because I like to say yes and then proceed to run as fast as I can.

For the first time in my life, I am being paid to be me.

That is a remarkable thing and all my cells are grateful.

Mia woke up on Friday with something angry in her stomach, mad enough I guess to make her miss a day of school. She lay in bed all day, a few feet away from me, barely saying a word. Yet, despite the silence I think it’s a day that’ll blink back in her memory.

The sun set and the hues of respect in Mia’s eyes had deepened since the morning.

Mia knows her daddy is a writer, though I’m not so sure she fully understands what that entails. Maybe she figured I sit at the desk typing from time to time, head lost in the clouds at others, thinking of new things to write. Perhaps to her it seems like a fun, or easy job.

Mia watched on Friday as I absorbed an endless stream of phone calls, Skype chats and email, seeing me without ceasing, typing and talking through the length of an entire day.

“I had no idea, Daddy,” she said in a voice about two years older than I expected.

The voice matched her new haircut, chopped into a bob earlier in the week, her first major head revision since she moved from bald to bushy.

Her new hair shapes her face differently. Though still wonderfully oval with rich chocolate eyes, it now looks pointier somehow, as though this past year has spent longer shaping the angles.

Just as beautiful, but obviously older.

The difference was there, but the new bob was a yellow highlighter making me wonder if I’d have missed it minus the new do.

Those were the wedges of my week, though there were some other significant slices along the way to Saturday, but I’ll save them for another post at another some time pretty soon.

This weekend, somewhere in between feeling the want to write for Writer Dad and wondering when I’d find the time, I stubbed by brain on the obvious.

I know precisely where I’d like to take this site. Pin on the map, gas in the tank, iPod loaded – exactly where to go.

It’s not only awesome, but threads many elements together into a much tighter tapestry.

I can’t wait to share.