I’m home, the guests are gone, the sheets are washed but not back on the bed yet, and I go to pick up the boys tomorrow. I have some reflections on spending a week away, and the quietness of the house, but they’re not quite gelled enough to type out. I hope to get them on paper on the bus tomorrow, on the way to meet my two wanderers. I’m sure they’ll look different to me, I’m know I’ve changed and so have they. It will be good, I’ve missed them.
One thing that happened before I left though? I fell in love with my husband all over again. A week with just the two of us, without any parenting responsibilities … I felt downright giddy for a bit there! I was able to see him as Michael again, in focus, not as Dad first and husband later. D was born 18 months after we were married, and we hadn’t lived together before then, so there wasn’t a whole lot of “just us” time before parenting took over. It was a distant and very vague memory, but I found myself remembering bits of what that first year felt like as I once again made dinner for just the two of us. Delicious.