The room is big and nice. Nothing fancy. A big bed with a two-inch-thick comforter. The kind that almost makes you want to run across the room and bounce on it. The adjoining bathroom has sample-sized shampoos and lotions, which makes me happy because mine are still sitting on bathroom counter, at home.
I sigh and place my bag on the bed. Traveling feels weird without Craig.
After dinner, I make the calls. The kids are fine. No tears at bedtime. Perfect angels all night long for their grandmother.
Heh. They could do that for me once in a while.
I slip under the covers for sleep.
Many hours, many toss and turns and many wakes up later, I throw back the covers and walk to the shower.
The water dances on my shoulders and neck. The shampoo and conditioner smell a little fruity for my taste, but they’ll do. I wonder if the kids are up yet and if it’s too early to call.
I take a little longer in the shower, because, well, I can.
Rubbing lotion onto my damp skin, I see the scar on my abdomen. I wonder if I’ll ever apply lotion without thinking of my son and his birth. I decide no, I will always think of him when I see that five-inch scar.
A call to my husband and a text from my mom tells me the kids are still sleeping and doing great. My babies are across the state and I breathe a deep sigh, knowing they are safe and sound.
I get ready for the day, drying my hair, applying makeup and tying my dress while practicing answers to questions that I’m not sure will be asked.
My gut tells me this is a big meeting. My head is excited. My heart is torn.
I notice that the corner of my lower lip is tucked between my teeth. I am nervous. I feel antsy. I’m not leaving for a little while yet.
I need to write.
So I did.
Also? Remember the Blackie story that I wrote a few weeks ago? I am honored to be selected in the top ten of the people who entered. Please go check out the rest of the entries and vote for your favorite.