Dear Z,

At the beginning of this week, I dropped you and J off at the airport so you could visit your folks for a few days. Tomorrow morning, the pup and I will get in the car for a long road trip up north to join you.

I have rarely received so many messages from you saying how happy you are, but it fills up my heart every time. For these past five or six months, the feeling of isolation has hounded you in this little townhouse of ours.

Friends are far away and family is even further, making us feel sometimes like two shipwrecked sailors with a baby and a dog along for the ride. This week, you have gone thrift shopping with your grandmother, cooked dinner with my family, spent quality time with both of your siblings, and even eaten breakfast with two hands while our little boy gets passed from grandparent to uncle to great-grandparent.

In the meantime, I have had the wonderful opportunity to try out a new project: W Unleashed, training our ornery dog to follow me (maybe technically follow around the tub of treats I’m holding) around outside without a leash. Except for the one quick sprint after a squirrel that almost ended its life between her teeth, the week has been a resounding success.

Besides that, I am all caught up on introverting, television shows, and renewing the car registration. And coming home to one sleepy dog dreamily thumping her tail against the couch cushion isn’t so bad. I’m convinced that dogs were put on earth primarily for lonely people. They are so good at caring for someone through their attentive, uncritical gaze.

All in all, I think this week was restorative for both of us. My mind jumps to the idea of making this a routine, perhaps something that happens once a month if we can find a cheap enough plane ticket. Our J needs to see his extended family more often than he has so far.

But there’s no need for planning out the next ten trips, we’ll just take them as we need them. Tonight, I will finish my short stint of bachelorhood with some last-minute packing while W paces and whines, anxious as always that she’ll be left behind. And tomorrow, after a half-dozen podcasts, a passenger seat full of anxious shedding, and a few gas station stops, we will pull up to your parents’ house and see our two favorite people standing in the doorway.

Yours,

S