It’s difficult not to count. Every day I miss him. Every day brings him closer.
I scan the news – radio, papers, internet. My Middle East geography has improved from zilch to some sort of expertise. If I play with Google Earth, can I understand the place he is?
He’s guarded, when he’s able to communicate with us. The children and I pray at dinner that Daddy will be safe and every time I feel the tremor in Lucy’s hand. At eight, she understands. At two, Bella bangs on the table with her spoon and looks at me with his eyes.
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