… and I am running errands in the local market after work. Thanks to the bum knee I need to do everything once and for all before I trudge three floors up to my house.
The kids are home and I am eager to see them, but something is missing. That little tug that makes me skip coffee breaks at work and soldier on through work for the last 6 years… that’s what is missing.
The bleddy man has killed the urge to go home if he’s not there. Home is all four of us. Even one less, particularly if it’s the other adult in the equation and it’s not home.
I wander around listlessly picking up a pair of blue sneakers here, a pretty dupattta there and consider trying them on. Then I lose that urge too.
Finally I do something that never fails. I dial home and ask to speak to the kids. The maid puts them on…
I walk the short distance home, chatting with them. Their excited voices reel me in like an invisible thread. I reach home and walk in, surprising them. Once back home the evening passes in a flash with them.
As night falls and they go to bed I sit down to type this post and heave a sigh of relief. I’ve made it through the day without him.I shake my head in irritation at the mush, but I can’t help the way I feel.
Thank God he isn’t a consultant spending weeks on end away from home…. Tomorrow is another day and he’ll be home. And then it will feel more like home.