At the Greensboro Children's Museum

— Photo by ML

There are about 450 miles between my girls and myself. They live in Greensboro, NC, and I live smack in the middle of Philadelphia. Or, looking at it another way: it takes about 7 hours to get there by car, or a little over 1 hour to fly there. In other words, it's not around the corner, but it's also not on a different planet.

How this all came about is a rather long and painful story. Now, several months after the battle officially ended, the dust is starting to settle slowly, and all parties involved are again trying to get used to the realities of everyday life.

Not too long ago, we all used to live together in a house in a small town in Connecticut. It's strange, but that life seems so distant now, that even I sometimes wonder if I dreamt the whole thing. Regardless, I am determined to stay close to my girls, and I make it a point to speak with them on the phone a few times per week. I also visit them as often as finances and work schedule allow, which currently means that I get to see them every 6 weeks — a very big change from seeing them everyday!

Father and Son

— Photo by Justin Knol

I remember the first time I met my father. We met at some small third-rate restaurant in a suburb south of Stockholm where he worked as a cook. It felt strange to finally meet him, especially after all the effort that had gone into finding him. But there he was, right across the table. Up until then I had only seen one or two photographs of him, both taken sometime in the early 1960s, and I remember that I thought he looked old.

We were now trying to catch up with each other, both trying to play our designated roles: he the "father", and I the "son." It was very awkward. Fortunately there were a few other guests in the restaurant, so, from time to time, he had to get up and take care of them. We managed to mangle through a bit of smalltalk, and after a short while he went into the kitchen to cook for me — I remember that it was a something called "plankstek." We were both trying to reconnect. We both wanted to. But how do you reconnect with someone who you don't know and who you haven't seen since you were a little kid?

Strawberry Mansion

— Photo by ML

Now it's five months since I moved from Connecticut to a one-bedroom apartment smack in the middle of Philadelphia. And what an incredible five months it has been! Virtually every aspect of my life has changed, and with that, not only my outlook on life, but also how I view things in life.

And I must confess, that although some of the changes have been quite drastic, I'm glad it all happened. Here in Philadelphia I'm able to shed the last remnants of the "old" me and my "old" thinking. I feel much better today, much stronger, and much more positive.

At the Greensboro Library

— Photo by ML

Last weekend I went Greensboro, NC, to visit my girls. This was the first time I visited my girls in their new hometown. I got there on Saturday early afternoon — it's a quick 1.5 hour direct flight from Philadelphia to Greensboro.

When I arrived, I went straight to my rental car, programmed my GPS, and drove off to the apartment where my girls now live with my ex. Up until this point it felt almost like any other business trip to some city where I had never been before.

My girls moved with my ex to Greensboro about a month ago, and it felt strange to meet them in place that was new to me, but familiar to them. For the first time in their life, I live, at least in relative terms, far away from them. Sure, a 1.5-hour flight doesn't take you to the other side of the world, but it's also not exactly "around the corner". It's close enough to visit fairly often, but every trip does require air travel, hotel, rental car, and so on.

Photo by CN

This question popped into my head this afternoon: would I write my posts differently if I knew for sure that my daughters, friends, family, or even ex, read them? The answer is simple: no! First of all, I'm posting this to the "world", so it'd be really stupid to assume that they'd never read them. Secondly, and equally important, it wouldn't be honest — I know, novel concept.

I guess it all depends on why one writes. For me writing is part therapy, part exhibitionism, maybe even a bit narcissism. But unless I'd specifically write fiction, the whole point is to be not only truthful, but also careful and sensitive to the fact that my reader maybe someone very close to me. This is especially important when I write about personal topics such as my divorce.

Photo by ML

Where am I? That was my very first thought when I woke up this morning. For a few moments I had absolutely no idea where I was. I looked around the room for some visual clues — it all seemed familiar, all too familiar. But it took a few moments for me to realize that I was in my hotel room in Greensboro, NC.

I travel quite a bit, and this has happened a few times before. I wake up in some hotel room and don't know immediately where I am. What throws me off is that most hotel rooms look so much alike, and many are in fact identical, especially within hotel brands (stay at different Hyatt Place hotels and you'll see what I mean).

Photo by Transguyjay

I have this recurring dream where I have to get from one place to another. The dream always starts the same way: I have figured out that I need to take the car, train, bus, plane, or even a boat to get to my destination. As I start my journey, things start to happen. The train is delayed, or the bus doesn't go where I thought it would, or I can't get to the airport in time, and so on.

When this happens I figure out an alternate way to get where I need to go. Of course, at that point something else happens. My new plan soon falters, and I need to find yet another way, and so on. And while the locations in the dream change, the premise of the dream remains the same: I simple cannot get to my destination, no matter how hard I try. For every solution I find, another problem pops up.

Photo by ML

Feeling a bit apprehensive today. The reason: I'm going to visit my daughters in Greensboro, NC, tomorrow. This is the first time I'm seeing them since they moved from Connecticut. And what makes this even more difficult, is the fact that I've never been to Greensboro.

I have traveled literally around the globe, so going to a new place is in itself nothing new for me. But this is different — this is about spending a weekend with my daughters in their new hometown and I'm the visitor! This is the first time that I'm not taking them some place, but rather they're showing me their new world.

I miss them! I miss them a lot, but I also feel so distant somehow. It used to be that when I traveled, I would come back home to them. Now I travel awayto visit them. Sure, there are the almost daily phone calls, the Skype and IM sessions, and even occasional emails. But it's not the same thing as calling "home" to see how they are.

-martin.