These are my tappings on the wall to you

The thing I miss most is being able to talk with you about all of the decisions, ideas, meetings, scoldings, opportunities, obstacles--before presenting them to everyone else. I've been keeping ahead of the curve. Sometimes just barely. But I don't like how I hear the words for the first time as I'm saying them to everyone else. It's an evolution I need to make, and am making, but sometimes just barely.

Hovering on the verge of self-pity, I suddenly remember you've already given me an outlet to do this--to speak to you first--foremost--before all. And I haven't yet taken advantage of it. So here I am, at last, talking to you again, somewhat like before. It feels good. Even better than knowing we eat the same salad 2-3 days a week. I can look at our picture on my desk, though, and feel almost like we're talking. (In my mind, you're even staring at where my beard used to be and smiling in disbelief at the newness of the old me.)

True--I can't get your feedback right away through this crude medium. But sometimes it's in the telling of the idea that the opportunity comes, or the venting about the obstacle that the seed is planted for the next meeting. Other times, our words are like a 401(k). You listen, consider, contemplate, reflect--your mind, a judicious mirror, and I want to keep you in my pocket all day and smile deep into you when no one else is looking.

So here I am: tap tap tap-taptap tap tap-taptap.

That means my sun rises and sets with you, Morning Star.