Shawn and Reilly flew home to Florida on Wednesday of this week, and will be gone through September 5th. I’ll join them on September 2nd for a quick trip home. The nine days that I’ll be apart from my wife are, without question, the longest time we’ve been apart since we were married. Obviously, this is also the longest period of time I’ve ever spent apart from my daughter.
As a boy, I did not mind spending time alone. I was shy, true, but I also had such an active imagination that I could fritter away hours by myself, absorbed in some daring rescue or swashbuckling adventure. A vestige of that old self remains. The first day Shawn was gone, I enjoyed a sort of euphoric freedom. I was emperor of the apartment, free to hang out in my boxers, have chips and beer, and flip between football, Sportscenter, and a Yankees game on TV. Yet with all that freedom, when it came time to go to bed, I found myself staring up at the ceiling, studying a crack in the plaster that snakes from the window to the kitchen.
When we first moved to The City, I remember returning home to our apartment on Ludlow Street and finding it surprisingly empty and quiet. What we were missing was our dog, Leia, who we had grown so accustomed to greeting us each time we set foot in our Tallahasee townhouse. Leia lives now with the Tewksbury’s, and is trying to get used to her new visitor—Reilly. (Shawn reports that Leia likes to lick her feet.) My second day alone left me with a similar sensation. For the last few weeks, I have rushed home from work, burst through the door of the apartment and announced, “Dad’s home!” Now, I linger at work a little longer, and walk a bit slower back from the subway, knowing that when I unlock the door, the only thing to greet me will be the hum of the air conditioner.
By the third day, a certain amount of longing had set in. I spent fifteen minutes at work forcing a co-worker to watch as I browsed through a few weeks of Reilly’s pictures. Later that day, I found myself humming the “Robbers Song,” a tune I made up one day when I was alone with Reilly for the first time. Shawn had been away from the apartment for a quick errand, and when Reilly would not stop crying, I began to panic, trying every position and nursery rhyme to cheer her up. Finally, I set her on my knees, and made up the “Robbers Song” on the spot. It goes a little something like this:
Verse 1 – (Jog baby’s legs)
You’ve gotta run, run, run, run from the robbers
Gotta run, run, run, run from the robbers
Gotta run
Gotta run
Verse 2 – (Jump baby’s legs)
You’ve gotta jump, jump, jump, jump from the robbers
Gotta jump, jump, jump, jump from the robbers
Gotta jump
Gotta jump
Verse 3 – (Grab baby with both hands around ribs)
And then the robbers catch us!
So…
Verse 4 – (Punch with baby’s fists)
You’ve gotta fight, fight, fight, fight with the robbers
Gotta fight, fight, fight, fight with the robbers
With a left and a right
You’ve gotta fight
Verse 5 – (Tickle baby’s face with fingers)
And then you chill…
The song kept Reilly calm for twenty minutes, until Shawn returned.
As I sit here in my apartment, remembering that day, I’d trade the quiet and calm of her absence for an hour of crying, just to get her back in my arms. I miss my girls.
Can you tell?
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