the girls are asleep. the day is almost done. and i miss you so much i feel it in my stomach.
i have forgotten what this lonely is like; it’s been a long time since you were out all day and night, helping someone come into the world on the best possible terms. you’ve been around, and i got used to that.
now you are away, and i am not used to it. i miss you.
i have all kinds of things i want to do because they’ll remind me of you, warm me up, and make me feel like i’m doing okay and holding down the fort while you’re gone. i want to do the dishes, ride the trainer, get the compost and recycling ready for tomorrow, iron some shirts, drink wine when it’s all over. i haven’t done these things. i put some things in the dishwasher and removed the obvious food particles from the table and did 10 pull-ups, but i’m spent. i miss you. i’m tired. and i’m not even sure i want to go to bed.
i got an e-mail from sally today, vaguely suggesting that i should have gone about leaving school a little differently today, and called in a supply and blah blah. i’m not sure she understands the detail of my leaving or coverage or whatever else, but i am sure that her comments come from a self-perception of her working harder than i. she probably does. many people think this, and i’m starting to think that they may even be half right. like i said: i forgot how to do this.
i will remember, and i will be better.
i picked up the littler girl and played with the both of them and we ate tortillas on the cold kitchen floor, one in my lap while the other stirred and sipped her hot chocolate on the cubbies. i made chicken soup from the can and grilled cheese from homemade bread for dinner. they both ate lots. we cleared our spots, wiped down table and hands, and went up to the bath. they both sat on their respective potty/toilet, and they both produced items of note. then they got in the tub together and i bathed their little chubby bodies so they smelled like flowers and herbs instead of perfume and daycare. they got dressed in matching oversize fleece pyjames, piled into the big bed for an out of season reading of The Polar Express, and promptly headed to bed, tiger balm on their feet and droopy eyes on their faces. they are now asleep, and they do not cough.
i miss you. i will now go and be better. i will tidy the kitchen more, get ready for recycling and compost tomorrow, maybe iron a shirt, maybe stretch instead of ride, and i’m already drinking hot chocolate instead of wine.