It's after 11:00. I shouldn't be blogging. I should be in bed reading and getting ready to go to sleep. The house is quiet, my chores are done and I'm avoiding taking the walk upstairs to go to bed.
This happens to me a few months into a deployment. I avoid bedtime. I want someone upstairs who will chat with me about my day, to sit next to me as I read. I want someone to lay on my side of the bed so it's warm by the time I'm finally done getting ready. I want to walk into the bathroom and find my toothbrush with toothpaste on it already. I want someone to laugh at me as I dig through my way too messy drawer trying to find my pills before bed. He's not here to be a part of this routine. I love the routine. There is so much comfort in it.
It's this time of the day when all the to-dos are done, the girls are asleep and the house is quiet that I cannot avoid the feeling of knowing that my man isn't home. He's not here and he's not waiting for me upstairs.
Gosh, I miss him.
Be safe, Joel. I need you back.