 | Bekahbrunstetter Jan 18 |  One minute I'm walking to rehearsal and I feel my feet on planet earth and it's one foot in front of the other, a leisurely point three miles downtown, twelve minutes door to door, but then I can suddenly feel how far away I am from my kids. It's not just minutes or feet, it's 2,400 miles or a five hour flight and I can feel each of those hours and miles and it's just much, much too far. It's not natural, it's not right, no kid should be so far from their Mother, especially not her, not at 10 months old. No matter how far I reach or how fast I walk, I can't touch them. If the world split apart we could be trapped on different sides. If a balloon scares her she might need me but she doesn't have the words to express or even know this, so she just feels me gone, wordlessly. I steady my feet back on the ground, focus one foot on front of the other, remind myself that people do this, and people have done this before facetime, before phones, before mail. I trust that they know I'm here, even though I'm not there, just like I trust the earth to hold me. | | | |
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