36 Hours -Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow…

Yep, it’s true.  My husband went to a bowling tournament and I stayed home, alone for 36 hours.  When we met I had been living alone 36 months.  So why were the past 36 hours a bit lonely? 

Pug one?  Check!  Pug two?  Check!  Pug three?  Check!  Pomeranian?  Check!  Cats?  Check! Check! Check!  So I guess I wasn’t completely alone…  We went through the motions of any other Friday.  Saturday was spent checking on chickens and going to the pharmacy.  Yet neither felt normal.

When I woke up throughout the late hours of the dark night, I noticed that he wasn’t with me.  I couldn’t hear him mumble or breathe.  The dogs and cats felt it too.  They were on high alert as soon as it became dark.  

So why am I writing about this?  I need to know what it is…  Was I lonely?  Was I sad?  Was I feeling something that has yet to be named?  All I know is that I was out of sorts and didn’t sleep worth a damn.  I made three dozen breakfast muffins this morning.  Not sure who for.  I collected freshly laid chicken eggs and brought the trash can from the curb to the garage.   I even shoveled the wrap-around deck!  None of these things had to be handled this weekend.  They were just the result of being alone.

My husband noticed my vehicle in the pharmacy parking lot and decided to surprise me in the store.  He found me in the vitamin aisle and as soon as I felt him, I turned around and reached for him.  My mind wandered into a type of click-lock comfort.  We were still in sync.  

We are both home again and all is normal. The dogs and cats are no longer on alert, and the chickens are doing whatever it is that chickens do.  I hope to get a decent night’s sleep.  If not, I will at least know that he’s home… In my heart as much as in our bed.  Would you like an oatmeal blueberry muffin?

  

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