I’m speaking at the EVO conference this weekend, in Utah, which is really so much prettier than I expected – why I didn’t expect it to be so pretty is a mystery that I’m not going to probe right now, but I thought that I should I state it for the record – and I am, of course, missing my babies desperately, because it is so easy to miss them when they are not grabbing my hair at four o’clock in the morning. Also, because I miss them even when they go around the corner for daycare and junior kindergarten, and Utah is so much further from Toronto than ‘around the block,’ hair-pulling or no hair-pulling, so.
This is the thing that no one can really explain to you, before you live it, before you feel it deep in your heart in that place that you didn’t even know was there until your children came and called to it, is this: that you will always miss them, always even as you crave and relish your solitude, even when you experience that aloneness as a kind of bliss, even when you thank the gods that you got to spend the night without a toddler attached to your hair, you will miss them. You will keenly miss them.
And the heart never gets used to that.