For the umpteenth night in a row I am staying up too late. Clicking the mouse mindlessly. Wishing that instead I was slipping into bed beside the man I love. The house feels so empty. Life devoid of his colors is drab and murky.
I’m going to go to bed once again leaving the house a mess. I should spend ten minutes tidying and doing dishes. And I may guilt myself into it yet. But more than likely I will wake up to it looking like the pit it does now.
But we’re ok. My days of going to sleep to old West Wing and Christy episodes are numbered. The colors will come back soon enough. I will have the terrifying experience of travelling with two children under the age of two by myself this week and I’ll spend some time back in Illinois with people we love and food that tastes like it’s supposed to. And then we’ll be closer to the end. And we’ll start preparing. And cleaning. And I’ll keep on clicking mindlessly, staying up too late. Until he’s here again. And then I’ll stay up too late still… Because we’ll talk late into the night just to hear the sound of each other’s voice fill the room that we’re in and not the crackling of the phone line.
Clicking through Caedmon’s Call videos on YouTube has brought me once again to the time of night when I know I need to quit the futile search for words to fill the emptiness and musings to block the longing for his kiss pressed on my forehead and his hand resting in the small of my back.
It’s time to go to sleep… So that I can handle the girls for another day on my own without being too grouchy. So that I can make it to church and maybe not be late getting there for the first time in months. So that I can wake up and do this agian. And again. And again.
Until he’s home.
Not much longer now.
(One more click now–Paul Simon and “Cecilia.” Because it makes me smile)