A Week Alone

                                      (L – Wes and me in 2004, R – Wes and me in 2012)

Before the girls left town to go and visit Nana and Coach, Ana came over, sat in my lap, and sighed very loudly.  “You’re going to miss me,” she noted, patting my cheek with her hand.

“I will miss you, yes,” I affirmed.

“You won’t have anyone to talk to except for Papi,” she said, watching me for a moment.

“That’ll be fine, though, because I like Papi,” I said.

“Oh, I know,” she said.  “Because you LOVE him.”

“I love him, AND I like him,” I added.

“But that’s a long time, Mommy,” she pointed out.  “All week.  Just you and Papi.”  A pause.  “What will you do for that long?”

I let my mind run over the possibilities.  We would…

Run together instead of taking turns so one of us could stay with the girls.  Eat relaxed, slow paced meals together without constant refills of milk, napkin retrievals, and ketchup spills. Go up to the church together and never open up the “toy drawer” in Wes’s office so as to give ourselves a moment of peace to discuss church work.  Sleep in without tiny fingers poking us awake before sunrise.  Talk to one another without interruptions, crazy questions, or observations that have nothing to do with anything pertaining to the conversation.  Simply enjoy sitting next to one another without the threat of a “couch cannonball” from two tiny girls who always seem intent on getting right in between us.  Remember what life was like nine years ago when we didn’t even realize that EVERY night was date night.

“Well?,” Ana asked.

I considered telling her the truth — that a week alone together is something Wes and I still enjoy, look forward to, and always spend well.  That we enjoy one another just as much now as we did all those years ago when we first met.

Instead, I told another truth.

“We’ll probably spend a lot of time missing you and Emma.”

She smiled at this.  “I know,” she said, so confidently, then scurried off to her room.

I watched her leave, then picked up my phone and called Wes.  And as soon as he answered, I asked, “Yeah, so how many hours until your parents come to get the girls?”

Love them when they’re here, love them when they’re not here.  It’s ALL good, y’all.

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