June 7, 2005
Dear Mr. Bush,
Home two days and gone only four, I still stare at my son and marvel at how much he's changed. His face is fuller now, his legs chubby from feeding almost hourly. He holds his head up almost completely on his own now, and is starting to make gentle cooing sounds every now and again.
When you were still driving out into West Texas to drill holes in the ground, would you come back and stare at the girls? Would you wash the dust off your hands and hold them in your arms, tired from the long drive but wide awake watching them move? Would you look at their arms, chubbier and pinker than when you left, and wonder if those trips were worth it?
Because, for me, no matter how successful this trip to New York was, I can't get over the feeling that I missed something amazing with my son that I will never get back.
Yours,
Dan
Home two days and gone only four, I still stare at my son and marvel at how much he's changed. His face is fuller now, his legs chubby from feeding almost hourly. He holds his head up almost completely on his own now, and is starting to make gentle cooing sounds every now and again.
When you were still driving out into West Texas to drill holes in the ground, would you come back and stare at the girls? Would you wash the dust off your hands and hold them in your arms, tired from the long drive but wide awake watching them move? Would you look at their arms, chubbier and pinker than when you left, and wonder if those trips were worth it?
Because, for me, no matter how successful this trip to New York was, I can't get over the feeling that I missed something amazing with my son that I will never get back.
Yours,
Dan
posted by Sinker at 12:52 AM
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