Nearly two months to the day when I was dreading that day we were to pile in the car and drive 1000 miles to a little town called Atchison, Kansas. I tried hard not to cry the whole way. . . but you know what? Even though I am not a crier. . . I just couldn’t help it.
Two months later, I still really miss him. Even though, the house is just a little quieter: I have the other three to keep me going – this home of ours is still pretty noisy, NOT at all much neater. . . or much cleaner.
Tonight I’m on my way to Atlanta to pick him up for spring break and I can’t think of much else. I can’t seem to keep my eyes off the clock or get things tightied up around here. Today even though I really care about the mess I just can’t seem to get it done. I just keep thinking he’s coming home and I have to get on the road in time to get him.
I hope I don’t cry when I see him . . . but you know what? Even though I really am not a crier, I am afraid I might. I will be so happy to see him I think I just might.