My husband left town this morning for four days. We were both invited to the wedding of the son of some very close family friends, in another state, that was this afternoon. I couldn't get time off from work, so my husband went on his own, and is extending his trip by a few days to spend time with his parents, whom he hasn't seen in about six months.
So it's quiet.
Now, it's not like it's any quieter than it usually is at this time of day. My husband has, officially, three jobs. As of September, he will be doing something he gets paid for every weekday from 5:40 am (yes, that really is 5:40 am) till 5:45 pm. He usually gets home in time to give Barak his bath (their official father-son bonding time) and if we're lucky we get to eat together. And more often than not, he goes back out again after dinner to learn with a chavrusa (study partner) or attend shiurim (classes). And except for in the winter, when the sun sets early, he always goes out at least once at night for maariv (evening prayers). So we don't see a lot of each other during the week, and it's quiet around here a lot.
But there is something qualitatively different about the quiet when your husband is in another state. It's a lonely kind of quiet. Barak is asleep, or getting there, and the door is double-bolted. I have a lot of packing to do, and will probably get quite a lot done tonight with no distractions. Since it's just me, I didn't bother really cooking dinner, and am taking advantage of my solitude to eat things my husband thinks are dangerously unhealthy (read: hot dogs and Diet Coke). And he did all the laundry before he left, because he's the best. So really, the evening is my own. This is a good thing--there's a lot to be done before we move (IY"H) in a few weeks.
So I really should get going, rather than sitting here and blogging about wanting my husband back. Now. Not on Wednesday. Now.
Sigh. Okay, off to pack. Think good, organized thoughts for me, please.
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