You’ve had to work late tonight, some issue has come up and you’re not here.
I feel desolate. Lonely. Alone.
I’m not – our 20 year old son is home. But my body aches that you’re not here.
A dear friend visited with gifts for my birthday. We chat and laugh. It helps. As soon as she leaves I am desolate again.
I can’t stand to be downstairs where you’re not.
I have a bath and get ready for bed.
You hope to leave soon. I could cry with relief.
And now I’m in bed, the wrinkled sheets where you slept last night, smell of you. But you’re not here.
It scares me how much I need you. Please, MrH, Sir, come home safe.