Yesterday I got up sometime in the five o'clock hour to make Joey some coffee and see him off to Vegas, where he ran a race. I tried to act all cool and collected, no mushy gushyness, but you know inside I was already missing him like crazy before the door closed behind him. Hearing his truck start out in the driveway about made me cry. What can I say. I am all married and codependent and shit.
It was so nice getting up early and having peace and quiet before the bombs drop (aka my children) that I decided to do it again this morning. I feel like a total stud. And coffee with honey and half and half, paired with a piece of Trader Joe's Cinnamon Raisin Bread toasted with butter, makes me feel like I am at the Milworks in Graeagle (little coffee shop that smells like coffee and cinnamon and fresh baked bread) or maybe Paris. It is perfection. And a much better way to start the day than whining (Little Lear numero uno) and screaming (Little Lear number dos).
But I do miss my husband. Going to church without him is like coffee with no honey. Or cream, for that matter. It's bitter and boring. And a little sad.
But I am pulling myself up by my bootstraps (that's the right way to say it, right?) and being all strong. I even made the bed.
I don't miss you honey. Not at all.
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