Dear Jakey,

This letter has been brewing since Tuesday. On Tuesday we went up to see Scotty & Leah at the lake. We never went up there last summer but as you know we went up a lot with you. Back then, I sat on the porch with you on my lap drinking white wine and we had some truly lovely evenings up there. And then life happened and it has been quite a while since we were up there. Within moments of arriving, Leah asked if it was hard to be there. She knew and also remembered so vividly you being there with us. And I appreciated it so much. Again, it was so nice to just be able to talk about you and remember moments of you with others. And though I don’t see Leah much, it was so nice and she said out loud what I think so much about everyday – about sometimes it is so hard for me to be around “normal” families. I hate to admit it Jakey, but it is true. Sometimes I just can’t do it. I don’t want to watch or hear about everyone’s life, particularly when it is about how hard it is. And while most of me, most of the time knows and understands life is what it is, there are stages that come and go with me where I just don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear about the normal problems everyone has. I don’t want to hear about trouble sleeping or trouble in the store or driving everyone around. And not because I think those things aren’t hard but mostly because I miss those parts just as much as I miss the happy parts. I miss the normal problems, even when our problems were far from normal. And coming home on Tuesday night, I wonder if Ethan didn’t somehow feel the same way. Tuesday night he had a hard time sleeping and woke up with thoughts of missing you in the middle of the night.

And then on Thursday, in the middle of the afternoon I realized that Wednesday marked 20 months without you. And to me it explained some of what I was feeling and doing. 20 months is a long time without you, my peanut.

Anyways, to be honest I don’t mind this mood. We spent last week in Saratoga with Sarena and yesterday we arrived in Plum Island. In a different house – just three down from Mad Martha’s. Just in between the two houses we spent time in with you – #81 where we were years 2 and 3 and #35 where we year #4. Walking by #35 last night, I looked in the windows and I pictured you there so vividly. There were great memories in that house but I could only ever be in that house from the outside looking in. I don’t think  I could ever walk in those doors without you.

I sort of like these periods, or maybe like is the wrong word. I just get tired of acting like everything is fine sometimes.