Saturday, August 4, 2012

No Word Yet About Dead Pigs

Dear John,

I'm sitting here in my pink pjs, the windows are open, the dog's eating dinner, and Jen and Elyssa are out for the evening. And I'm overwhelmed by how much I wish I was waiting for you to get off work tonight. I think it's having the windows open - that is normal for us, so this feels like real life. And I so want you to come home tonight.

About those open windows:

The lightening crashed, the thunder roared - and I don't know about any little pigs laying down and dying, but the temperature dropped from 94 to 68, and it's wonderful. A very strong storm came through - hail, 80-mph winds with trees and power lines down, rotation and rumors of funnel clouds, and torrential rain. And the barometer dropped so far and fast that Jen has a monster headache and I'm having a fibro attack. But it's a small price to pay: THE WINDOWS ARE OPEN!

There's a pretty sunset, a nice cool breeze, the sound of crickets, the smell of fresh rain - it's wonderful. All that's missing is you. A year ago I'd have been watching the radar here and texting reports to you at work. I wondered tonight if I should call Panera and tell them that it was time to bring the umbrellas in, but decided that I really shouldn't.

I miss you most when the little, normal things happen. The big holidays and occasions aren't as bad, because I know they are coming. Having the windows open it such a small, every-day thing. And you're not part of my every-day life in the same way you were before. So I come here to talk to you. I don't think I've told you - some nights I find myself thinking, "Now, what time does John get work off tonight?" Right now I don't care what time it is - I'd be so happy for you to come home any time at all!

I love you, I miss you. This time you're waiting for me to come home - I'll be there as soon as I can.

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