I’m in this whole other place right now, its called Germany. I say my 13th castle today. It was beautiful, but empty. Just like my day. Something is very wrong with my life right now. Here I am 5083 miles from you in a beautiful country spending every day driving past forests and castles and Gasthaus’ and whatever else and I find myself covering mile after mile without seeing anything realizing I’ve spent the whole time day dreaming and thinking of you.
I should have been taking pictures of the lake and the statues and the cobble stones, but I found myself sitting in my rental car writing you love letters and wishing I was in your back yard picking up the fallen sticks from that gigantic weeping willow.
I went to the post office today to mail you the letters I’d written you and the woman behind the counter said that I could put all five of them (many written as a passenger on a bumpy ride, good luck) in one larger envelope and save a few cents on the postage. Her eyes were kind and helpful but in German, the way she said it, it sounded like I was being scolded. Just another example of the disconnect in my life between what is real and what is perceived.
I declined. So you will be getting either 5 or 4 or 3 or 2 or 1 letters from me soon. Each individually wrapped and stamped. How inefficient of me. But the though of efficiency and love letters seemed to miss the point altogether.
So what’s wrong with my life? When I think of returning home, I think of coming home to you. Not my wife and not my family. I know you’ll hate hearing that, because your such a beautiful creature and because you struggle with our relationship. I struggle with it as well. But I am happier in my misery with you, happier in all of the separation that defines our relationship, than I am in the rest of my life.
As I sit here at 3 oclock in the morning in Germany, the though of returning to my life seems superfluous, over done, unrewarding. One more week before I fly home and the math that I work on is not how long from now until next Sunday when I arrive home, but how long until I can manage to see you again, even for a few moments.
I love you.
Love Papa Bear