Laddie, Come Home

When my husband flies out of town for a few days, I plan all I’m going to accomplish. No loud Southern Gospel music, I think. No bumping into each other in the kitchen, or his snoring waking me up twice a night. I’ll sit in my office and write Vista articles, listen to nothing but birdsong, and sleep the night through.

We chat all the way to the airport, and our kiss at the curb lasts extra long. On the way home, I sing and grin, anticipating the next four days of A Little Peace of Quiet.

When I sort the mail that afternoon, I silently toss my husband’s in his empty recliner. That seems odd, I think, not to hear music or see the TV on. Oh, well, all the quiet will help me concentrate on my writing. I eat alone while reading the paper and muse, News isn’t much fun when there’s no one to complain about it with. Oh well, he’ll be home in four days. I’ll save up my gripes ‘til then.

Sleep comes slow, with that vacant pillow and half a bed beside me. Although the cats fill up the empty space, they refuse to snore. I wake up five times during the night.

Over the next three days I finish a book I’m working on, write several articles, and never once run into anyone in my kitchen. But I notice I’m telling the checker at the market a lot more information than she wants to hear. And I’m tired from lack of sleep.

Finally, my vacation ends, and I rush to the airport, my heart aglow. “How’d it go?” he says as we wait for his luggage.

I squeeze his arm, smile and say, “Oh, fine. But next time, I’m coming with you.”

When your husband, boyfriend, or pet is gone for a few days, do you find yourself saying, "Laddie, come home"? Or do you enjoy the vacation?