Oh, you should have seen our attempt to Skype with Evan this morning. It was absolutely hilarious in a "this will be funny later" kind of way. The connection was terrible so we could neither see nor hear Evan with any kind of clarity and the kids were getting frustrated because they wanted to talk to him so badly, but it just wasn't working. Eventually, he called us on the phone and we watched the fractured, pixilated image on the screen while we heard his voice through the phone. It was just so....us. I was multi-tasking as usual, making pancakes, unloading and re-loading the dishwasher, feeding Thomas, and making coffee.
At one point, Evan had to say to me, "Sarah, just stop for a second so I can see you!" I completely forgot that Evan could see us through the web cam just fine. It never occurred to me that Evan would actually want to see me when his kids were more than enthusiastic about showing off their half-eaten pancakes, reward charts filled with stickers, and drawings.
Sometimes I forget that Evan is really missing
this. I feel somewhat drowned in the noise, the mess, and the chaos. I find myself overwhelmed by the constant clutter that follows me everywhere and the incessant chattering/whining/bickering/crying.
It can be easy to forget that he doesn't get to see this
or this
or even this.
While I look around and see chaos, he looks around and sees a barren hotel, lonely hotel room. While I yearn for a few stolen moments of peace and quiet, he surfs TV channels in Chinese just to get some noise. While I get to start and end each day with hugs and kisses from my sweet boys, Evan wakes and falls asleep on his own.
Sure, I'm lonely without him. But even through the chaos, I am still home. I need to keep reminding myself that Evan really, truly, wishes he were too.
