Back in Indiana

Yesterday I once again made the very long drive back to Indiana from North Dakota. It's amusing to me that you can wake up in one time zone and go to sleep in another. You spend the whole day in a little high-speed vessel, clipping along at a brisk pace against the rotation of the earth, and when you resume normal time you find your body wrenched back into the spin and sway of normal life. You're heading east, but you're really still heading west, only less so. It isn't literally traveling through time but you could almost convince your body of it—only I didn't change time zones; I went from the west side of the central time zone to the east side. The sun merely rises and sets half an hour earlier here. Does my body notice?

It was tough to say good-bye to Elizabeth again. I suppose I should just get used to it, as I have nothing but her entire lifetime (or perhaps the rest of mine, as it's likely to be the shorter) to say hello and goodbye. Still, as someone who has spent the greater part of a quarter-century under the belief that he is A) not good with children and B) not likely to become good with children, it's interesting to find myself in this position. I guess spending several hours with her every day for four months can have that effect. I never know what to do or say around other peoples' children; but in this position, the social awkwardness is replaced by genuine love, and it becomes easy. Conscious thought is replaced by involuntary affection. If I hadn't spent those months there, would it be different? Probably.

I truly enjoyed the moment when we first arrived last Thursday and she dashed over to me for a hug first; the uncle lets out a grin in triumph over the grandparents for the child's immediate attention. I only hope the bond will last as long as possible. It's true that using Skype has been extremely beneficial for preserving that relationship in the 2 & 1/2 months since we last saw each other, but I can only wonder how long it might hold out. Will it diminish by the time she reaches 10? What about as a teenager? And I wonder what it will be like when Lauren gets older as well. Will it be similar? I have to admit—maybe not, since I don't know if/when I'll get to spend such an extraordinary amount of time in North Dakota again.

This relatively short and very late entry was brought to you by the semicolon and the em dash. (Don't let the timestamp fool you; it's really 4 in the morning.)