Lonely

There is always a time in our lives when we’re suddenly hit with the realization of something that we never saw coming. It could be anything at all: suddenly realizing that you haven’t been 29 in at least 20 years; suddenly realizing that you’re not a billionaire like you’d planned; or even suddenly realizing that when you stopped shaving, the hair that started growing in again had turned a little more grey than you’d remembered.

The sudden realization I’m talking about, specifically, happened this week when Hubby got stuck in Center City Philadelphia due to a snow storm. He couldn’t make it out of the city on mass transit; and rather spending an entire night trying to get home, he ended up spending the night in a hotel room while I was at home and alone with the doglettes. The realization, you might ask?

That we’d grown so close over the years, that even just one night apart felt like separation anxiety!

Sitting at home that night without Hubby meant the only ones I was holding conversation with were the doglettes. And although very adorable and good listeners, they’re not very good conversationalists. Our entire world was turned topsy-turvey with the absence of Hubby for just that one night and one morning, that none of us knew how to react! We just kept bouncing from one thing to the next like we were going through life in a bouncy-castle.

Usually, when there’s the two of us, we tag-team taking the doglettes outside to do their business. Minus Hubby, that left just me to run them outside (or at least try to) all night long (which let me tell you, was not an easy task, and didn’t happen all too often, because they were not having any of it). With the huge drop in temperatures, the high winds, and the blowing snow, I was lucky to get a pee out of each of them. The rest was just going to be a series of training-pads strategically placed about the house (which met with great success, I might add! Yay!)

Then, every hour I was running outside to shovel off the patio – just in case the doglettes did want to go out at some point. The snow was coming down at about an inch of it per hour by that time.

Then, the final rub. It required ME to get up between 5:00 and 5:30 in the God-forsaken morning (Did He really intend for any man to be awake at that hour??) – not only to get the doglettes out to do their business, but also to shovel the patio, shovel the walkway, shovel the damned driveway, and then shovel the lawn to give the doglettes the ability to poop on the grass without ice and snow all up in their business. The poor girls were still having absolutely none of it – especially not with single-digit temperatures and wind-chills at -17 degrees F.

It’s not that I couldn’t do any of it. But it just makes it so much easier when there’s someone to share it with you. And that’s the magical realization: that we take each other’s presence for granted (not necessarily in a bad way) and don’t realize just how much until the other isn’t there.

So, Hubby: If you’re reading this, take note! The next time we have a snow storm, and the city of Philadelphia is emptying her bowels of commuters at an extra early time, you will use your knees, your elbows, and any other blunt object to plow your way through the crowds and get on the next train home, even if you have to stand the whole way home. I could live one night and a morning without you … I just don’t want to.

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