Going Soft

First, my wife is out of town and when I finally see her again, eight days will have passed. This is a very long time to be without someone you spend large chunks of every day with. It messes up your rhythms and affects pretty much everything you do in a day. I had potato chips for dinner one night. I used the same pot to cook with multiple times before washing it. I spent a couple of entire evenings without speaking. I left a pile of dirty clothes out on the floor. I watched the MLB Network for about three straight hours one night. I slept right in the middle of the bed and rolled around at will. Wild, I know.
In spite of all this blissful debauchery, I would much rather have her around. I was gone when she left for Chicago last weekend, so she left a little note for me taped to the bathroom mirror. It didn't say anything profound or hugely romantic, was just a normal note saying she'd miss me. I've left it hanging all week as a little reminder, a small inconvenience that I have to deal with when using that mirror, one little tiny thing to keep me connected to her presence in a much stronger way than simply speaking together on the phone ever could.
Second, a few days ago, I found myself watching some show about animals struggling to reproduce. I mean struggling to carry on their genes, not struggling to have sex. There was a thing about how an octopus mother* will gently and methodically blow water over her many eggs to keep them from accruing algae, and something else about a tree frog carrying her tiny tadpoles one at a time up a huge tree so they'd be safe. For obvious reasons, this really got to me. I am a human being with innumerable advantages in this world as compared to these animals, and in a few more months I'll start the same "struggle" as them in trying to protect and nurture a new life. It's nice to be reminded how much effort some creatures will put into parenting, so that there is really no excuse for me given how much easier it will be than having to climb a massive tree several times a day with my baby on my back.

*Did you know that after its eggs hatch, a mother octopus dies? This also got to me. I used to love Hemingway and even in my most cynical phases the ending to A Farewell to Arms always seemed terribly heartbreaking to me. In fact, multiple times I've stopped and reiterated to Sara that should anything dangerous happen relating to this baby being born, should any kind of crazy situation arise where her health is ever put in jeopardy attempting to keep the baby safe, then I'd stop it in a second.