September 11, 2016
Dear Callen,
Today is the last day of my sabbatical. For the last five weeks I’ve been home with you just hanging out. We’ve made some day trips and what not, but nothing special. I would have liked to take you somewhere fun, but it just didn’t work out this year. Not only am I going back to work, but I have to travel this week. We’ve never been apart for more than a day or so since you were just a baby, the last time I had to travel for work. Over the last few years, when it has only been you and me, I’ve made it clear to work that I would only travel if absolutely necessary; and they have been very accommodating. This trip isn’t a necessity, and I’m not obligated to go. I’m going because I think it is an important step in getting the schedule that we need. Hopefully I will return with good news, or at least a roadmap to getting there.
At this point I was thinking that we were both getting a little tired of the situation. I know that I for one could use some time to myself just to decompress. I’ve tried to reinforce the idea that I was leave to you over the last few days. You seem excited to spend time with your aunts, which is great. You’ll spend a day or two with each of them and a few with Grammy. We’re lucky that they are willing to move around their schedules to help us out. Tonight I reminded you that I was going back to work tomorrow and you simply responded “no.” I again stated that I had to do it, and your response was “stay home.” You’re still not much of a talker, and this was the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me. It’s quite possible it will be the nicest thing you ever say to me. For the first time I was truly sad to have to go back to work.
Then tonight when I put you to bed I realized that it was the last time I would talk to you in person for five days. While I’ll call everyday it’s just not the same. I went back in after you were asleep and sat there for a few minutes until I had to go pack for my trip.
I’m going to miss you very much while I’m gone. Please behave yourself while I’m gone.
Love,
Daddy