I have trouble sleeping when he’s gone, and so I pile up pillows on "his side" in an attempt to fool myself that he is there.
It doesn’t work. So I struggle with the insomnia.
I tell myself that because it’s just me and the kids we can just go out and get a burger for dinner and I don’t have to cook. But cooking is relaxing and therapeutic for me, so not only do I end up cooking, but baking, too. Because when he gets home he’ll want a cool dessert.
I know. Dork.
So I struggle with this dichotomy: I love having time to myself, but I hate it when he’s gone.
Mostly because I just can’t sleep.
But of course, he always returns.
And he brings me, not just a souvenir, but something that reminded him of me when he saw it and so he got it knowing I’d love it. And I do.
"I’m glad to be home. I had trouble sleeping," he tells me. (I smile.)
So, now he’s home and we both breathe a sigh of relief because now we can both finally get some sleep. 😉