Saturday evening and it’s quiet.
It’s not truly quiet, which is a rarity when a 12-year-old boy is present, but still, it feels quiet.
My girl left last night and when my girl leaves, for a little while it’s like the air is sucked out of the house. The atmosphere is different without her. It’s as if the house knows she’s gone again too, and it requires a day or two to regain it’s equilibrium, just like me, to adjust to her absence again.
Even though she’s called me twice today and I’ve heard her voice, it’s not the same as her being present. I know it’s only 3 weeks until she’ll be back, and those 3 weeks are ridiculously busy this year and surely they’ll fly by, and yet it will simultaneously be a long 3 weeks.
I think often about how odd it is, passing in a…
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