Each day I am gone, the kids will get a bag to open, with a small toy and a love note from their Mommy.
One day last week, during an especially hard moment when Riley had been melting and Todd and I had been short with each other, I turned to him and seethed, “I can’t wait to get on that plane.”
Two days later we stood in the dark, in the kitchen, slow dancing to the love song station on XM radio. He is the one who always switches it from my beloved Oprah to love songs. The children had turned off all the lights in the house and were running around with flashlights. Moonlight came in from the window. As we did the white guy Jr. High dance sway, I put my head on his shoulder and my throat tightened,
“How am I going to see the most beautiful sunset, and not turn to you…to see you see it too?”
“I’ll be with you,” he whispered, as his lips pressed the top of my head. “You’ll tell me what it looked like.”
Today I’m in denial I’m even going. Todd will print off the forms I need. Make sure my papers are in order. He takes care of things.
He will take care of our babies.
He will make them breakfast, lunch, dinner. Get their supplements ready. Take Riley to cello. Take them both to dance class. He’ll man up for clay class. He’ll do laundry. He’ll make tacos. He’ll tuck them into bed. He’ll rub essential oils into their feet at night, not because he believes it helps, but because I do.
He will help Riley with her math. He will sit on the floor in Seth’s room to play Lego Space Police, because it is important to our boy.
He will tell me everything is great when I call, even if it isn’t, so I won’t worry.
In three days, he will drive me to the airport, tell me I’m a good mom, and put me on a plane.
He will be there waiting for me when I get back.
He will be the love of my life,