When Edie was born, James took a week off of work, then went back just as the show was wrapping. Which meant 14, sometimes 16 hour days. I remember one night, holding a screaming Edie, thinking that I didn't have the steam to get her to sleep for what felt like the 12th time that day, and that James was due home soon, so I'd just wait for him. After a while I realized I was just being dramatic, that I did, of course, have enough steam, and I get her to sleep. James got home, like, six hours later.
And then, all of a sudden, the show wrapped, and he was home. We traveled for the holidays, and then we traveled after the holidays, and then we had a month where it was just the three of us, home together every day. I'm not going to lie; we got under each other's feet. We weren't as productive as we were intending to me. I didn't go for a run everyday, and James didn't always carve out hours to write. We lived more in snatches, handing Edie back and forth as we took showers and made lunch and wrote emails.
But, nearly everyday we'd all end up on the bed, and Edie would look back and forth at us, and, as is her custom, would reach out and wrap her hand around James's finger, and reach her other hand out to touch my shirt, and James would say, the gang's all here. And as I laid there, I wouldn't forget that money was tight and getting tighter, or that waiting for something to happen is always tense, and that when that something is something possibly wonderful, that tension becomes knife-edged, but I'd also think that - soon - I would be so glad for this time we were spending together, when our Edie is young and we are so new at this.
That soon is now.
So this is for James.
She doesn't say so, but I do think she misses you.