The Sound of Silence

On Sunday of this week, I dropped Steve and Theo off at the airport for a 4-day ski trip to Colorado.  Steve was very excited to share his love of skiing with Theo and to get Theo off on the right foot (boot?) with a couple days of ski school at a reputable location with well-trained instructors and lots of opportunities to learn all the basics, try lots of different runs, etc.  He felt like it was the best way to learn, as opposed to learning on the small ski “hills” we have in Wisconsin with a lesson lasting just an hour or two.  They had free flights, a free place to stay (Steve’s parents were already going to be there, staying in a condo for the week, and had room for them) and no reason not to go for it.  I thought it was a great opportunity for Steve to do the kind of skiing he really loves and can’t possibly do around here and I know how much he wants to share the sport with Theo.  Of course, as a mom who hasn’t skiied since I tried it a few times in seventh grade, I was a bit nervous about Theo’s safety, but I knew Steve would look out for him and I sent them on their way.

And then the silence set in. 

The girls were with their dad and I was alone from Sunday morning until Monday afternoon.  I’m used to the quiet when the kids are at school and Steve is at work, but this was different.  This was all alone in the evening, all alone at night with no kids to tuck into bed, all alone when I woke up in the morning.  No one to get out the door to school on Monday morning.  No one to laugh with when something funny happened on t.v.  No one to cheer with during the Super Bowl.  I was alone on Tuesday and Wednesday during the day as well and on through until today (Thursday).

In theory, I should’ve probably relished the quiet, with no one but the dogs depending on me for anything.  I tried to love it.  Really I did.  I mean, I could watch whatever I want, listen to whatever I want, read whenever I want, make what I wanted for dinner.  And don’t get me wrong.  I enjoyed those things.  Well, some of them.  A little.  But what I realized most is that I love being around my family.  A lot.

I love the questions and the stories and the jokes.  I love the hugs and kisses and snuggles.  I love kissing my kids goodnight and checking on them again before I go to bed.  I love curling up next to my husband at night and having his “I love you” be the last thing I hear before I fall asleep.  I love talking to someone who talks back, as opposed to the dogs who just tilt their head and look at me with a look that says “Can I have a treat?”

I still remember vividly the way I felt after John and I divorced and the girls switched between our two houses.  Whenever the girls were with their dad, everything felt too quiet, too empty, too lonely.  It was a year and a half later when Steve became part of my everyday life, sharing our home and building our new life together and then almost two more years before we added Theo to the mix.  It is still so difficult sometimes, even after 10 years, to share the girls.  I miss them when they aren’t here.  But it’s a routine and the familiarity makes it easier over time.  But I’m rarely without Steve and Theo.  They are the constants in what is sometimes a confusing schedule.  When they weren’t here this week, it just felt empty.

I’m leaving to pick my boys up at the airport now and I can’t wait to see them!  I did make good use of my time while they were gone and did some writing, some reading, some projects, a couple lunches out with friends.  But I am so ready for the hugs and the noise and the commotion again.  Welcome home, boys.  I missed you.