A Welcome Home

In a flurry of stress I clean and cook and scrub and bake.  Wash dishes and floors, wipe down bathrooms and tidy rooms while asking myself in a frustrated voice 'Why?!  Why?!' I'm leaving in 24 hours for warmth and sun and relaxation!  Why am I doing this?!

I stick post it notes up for my husband on the fridge.  I fret and wonder if things are going to be done right.  Right meaning my way.  Right meaning not my husband's way.

Even though there is absolutely nothing wrong with my husband's way.

At half past dark thirty I awake before the alarm.  I fix my eldest's snack and write a little note, "See you in 4 sleeps.  Be good for Dad.  I love you!!!"

I check my post-it's to make sure all is written down and taken care of between sips of coffee.  I refrain from kissing them good-bye while they sleep.  And then I do anyway.

Over the next 4 days I enjoy hot sun, rest, relaxation by a pool and beach side.  I try to remember what it's like to be on call 24-7, to be at a constant barrage of requests, demands and whining.

Yet I forget.

How quickly one gets used to such luxuries.

I miss my boys, my husband like crazy.  I try not to think of them too much.  Especially at night.  The pangs in my heart are physical when I recall their voices, their soft skin, their dimpled smiles and blue eyes, their snuggles and smell.

And yet I am having a wonderful time.  It's quite blissful even.

I wonder how my husband is handling them, what he's making for Adrian's snacks and for meals.  If he took them to Chuck E Cheese as he promised.  I know he did and I try not to be grateful that it was him and not me.  But I am.  He would have more fun than I would, I am sure of it.

I wonder what the house looks like and yet I don't care.  Because it really doesn't matter.

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Yet my husband?  He knows me.

He picks me up with a great big kiss and hug.  He's so, SO happy to see me and does it ever feel amazing to be missed.

My boys greet me with quiet smiles as I clamber over the seats and kiss them exclaiming how much I missed them.  Finley begins his chatter.  He asks about the beach and when can he go and where's Gaga and tells me about the big mouse and how he didn't dance with him.

Adrian remains quiet.  "He just woke up." John explains.  My biggest boy's wide blue eyes watch me and my heart pangs with the distance I feel from him.

How is it that they've grown in 4 days?

I feed them crackers and chocolate from my purse because they're hungry and that's all we have in the car on the very long, very treacherous ride home.  A blizzard it seems of-course.  Finley continues his chatter and inquiries and Adrian says the occasional sentence here and there.

We arrive home and...was it ever nice to be home.  I now know a fraction of the relief of what my husband feels like when arriving home after work travels.

"Come here you guys!  Now I can really say hello and give you big hugs and kisses!"  Adrian runs at me full force and I scoop up all 50 lbs of him, his long legs wrap around me as I kiss his cool, soft cheeks a hundred times over.  This.  This is what he needed.  It's what I needed. "I missed you like crazy Aidykins." Riley whines and leans against my legs.

The floors shine, the kitchen is spotless.  There is nary a toy to be seen.

My husband.  He's a good one.

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I awake to the sound of feet on stairs and the smell of coffee.  My husband sets down something on the nightstand beside me.

I open up one eye as he kisses me good morning.

Fresh coffee and grapefruit.

He leaves the room and I hear the sound of my sons' playing.

My family.  It's a wonderful one.  I close my eyes and count my blessings.

It's great to be missed.

It's even better...to be home.