In the past I’ve resented parenting alone when Mike had to travel, so when I found out about his next business trip just days before his departure to the politically inclimate Honduras, it began to sink in that I’d be going it alone for the first time not only in the midst of working full time again, but with the added bonus of a sick kid.

Somewhere in between my 5 minute spongebathes, granola bars for breakfast again, the 8 minute drive to daycare, the 15 minute drive to work, working through lunches to make up for a day of lost work, cooking dinner in the time it takes Penny to take a bath and discover mint-flavored dental floss, then jammy-time, brush teeth, no only three books tonight please, passing out in Penny’s twin bed while she sleeps sideways, I start to really miss my husband. It’s not just my case of the get up and do-it-all-over-again blues. It’s not because the laundry and dishes are piling up and the kitchen garbage reeks or because until this very moment, I haven’t had 5 minutes of peace that wasn’t sleep in 5 days…no, it’s more than that.

Somewhere in between all these have-to’s I start to think back to when we dropped him at the airport, how the light caught his eyelashes and all the dust floating around in our completely kid-ified volvo basked in a golden glow. We were listening to this song:

We parked in short-term, I looked up just in time to see a flock of swifts tear above us – their wings moving so fast they looked like thorns against the white dusk sky. Moments later I watched as Mike was swallowed by the bustling crowd of travelers and it sort of winded me, to see him walking around like just one of so many other strangers – I got to thinking how easily we might never have found eachother, how lucky I am that we did.

Sometimes you have to break out of the mundane to realize how wonderful it is I suppose, and sometimes, somewhere between the have-to’s, it’s good to miss your lover, and remember you’re in love.

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