I'm so tired from missing the family, the dog, and the house that I don't think that I can write a letter befitting the eloquence that I normally offer. So instead I'll write about some small tidbits of truth racking my brain and they'll naturally weave into something meaningful, big, important to mother and son.
1. I want to observe that going to the airport today was much much more challenging than it ever was. My brother wiped my tears in the backseat of the car and on the line to security. When he wasn't there to do it for me, I wiped them myself. I could barely look back at you all, and in that moment, I fantasized about attending a college that was but ten footsteps away from home. But perhaps only with great distance can there be great closeness. My tears and the pain in my throat that preceded them were healthy and full of promise, promise that they'll be met with wider smiles and deeper happiness when I return.
2. What is childhood? It is a learning process of truths for both the parent, who offers the world, and the child, who opens his eyes to that world. To that extent, this summer in China was a second childhood. The world you showed me was Shanghai and a side of Harbin that I had no previous knowledge about. And the truths? They're everywhere. They're in the work I did, the people I met, the food you bought me, the stores you took me to. No one said that the truths to be learned in childhood have to be any big, momentous truths. All there has to be is one nugget of truth a day, something small but gleaming and memorable. I had that because you gave it to me. Thank you for allowing me to be a child again, if only for a month or two.
3. The last day of Whippany Chinese food, of rummy, and of video games passed like a flash before my eyes. Maybe it passed so fast because I haven't spent enough time with you all yet. But I like to think that it's because in those moments, I finally transitioned from being a visitor in my home to being a presence that belonged in my home. Eating with family, playing rummy with family, watching tv with family, playing video games with family, none of it felt temporary or urgent or rushed or the end of anything. It felt familiar. It felt right.
4. Eight hours away from home, there are only so many things I can still control. Take care of Frost. Take care of yourself and and my brother and don't get too busy with all the community debates. I'd rather have both imperfect policies and a cohesive family than neither.
5. Hang out with Mrs. K sometimes. She respects you immensely.
