It Matters
Three weeks ago, as I bent down to tuck in my daughter and give her a good night kiss, she whispered, "I don't want you to go. You won't be here to sing my song at night." I sighed and scooted on to the bed next to her, thinking about the two weeks of training that lay ahead of me. "I'll tell you a secret. I don't really want to go either," I whispered, watching a tear slip down her cheek. "But remember when Daddy was gone for the same reason this summer and the two weeks went so fast?" She looked me in the eye quizzically and tearfully stated the obvious: "It matters more when you're gone." I sighed again as a tear slipped down my own cheek. "I know. I agree that in a lot of ways it matters more. But I know we'll both do the best we can, won't we? And Daddy will play your song that I recorded, or if we Skype at bedtime I'll sing it to you myself. Okay?" She nodded woefully and whi