This morning, when Mark told me that I left a baby and will be returning to a toddler, I asked him to not make me cry. And really, I was on the verge of tears. I had to collect myself in order to not start crying.
It’s not as though this transformation is news to me. I already thought River had become a young toddler before I left. But still, the changes he’s undergone in just the last few weeks have been rapid. I’m afraid he will seem different when I return and that I will regret not being there to see him progress to his newest self. Let’s face it, I already regret not being there.
Mark said that River hasn’t walked again since he did so on the evening of March 4th. He was going to have him try while he was talking to me, but I asked him not to. I’d rather he not become an expert walker by next weekend. I’d like to be able to see his progression.
I would still like to get home sooner, I’d like to see him and wrap my arms around him. But with time, he’s becoming more distant. I know he’s there, I think about him and love him and I speak to him on the phone, but he doesn’t recognize my voice on the phone. We don’t have any way to connect, so all we can do is live apart as we have to for the moment. It’s sad, but it does become strangely more bearable with time.