It’s a lazy Sunday morning.
Before long I’ll open the blinds, signaling to the animals upstairs that it’s breakfast time. But for now it’s quiet.
My husband is away for the weekend. It isn’t my preference but it ends up working out well. When you’re together all the time – which we are, living together, working together, running errands together – there’s no time to miss each other.
Or maybe it’s a different kind of missing. Certainly as I pass by his office, students flocking the doorway, while heading off to my own 10:00 class, it registers that I miss him. That I need time alone with him. That we’ll have to wait until we get our work chores done, and then pick up our kids from school, and ’doesn’t your son have an appointment tonight?’ and dinner and homework and… and… and maybe we’ll steal a few minutes alone before bedtime.
Sure, I frequently miss my husband. But this is different. I can’t even get a glimpse of him. He’s in another state.
So I find myself thinking about him while I go about my errands. What chores has he set about doing for his 90-year-old mother? What obstacles has he run into?
My man is a spit-fire. He really is. He is the Energizer Bunny on steroids. If you’re not careful you’ll get knocked over by the sheer Tazmanian Devil-ness of his work-mode personality.
You see, his heart is filled with service to others. Especially to his mom, whom he doesn’t get to see as often as he’d like. So even before he leaves, he sets in motion the chores he’s going to do during his two-day visit. And he spends the day cleaning gutters and organizing the garage and trimming the bushes. And he spends evenings playing Yahtzee and Sorry with an old German gal who can’t get around as well as she’d like but still insists on making a full dinner for her son.
So I wonder what chores he’s doing this time? And how many trips he’s made to Home Depot? And did he find the lightbulbs he was looking for there in the garage after he returned?
Yes. When my sweetie is gone, I have the luxury of thinking about him in ways that don’t include, ‘I wonder if he remembers that tomorrow is yard cart day?’
It’s pleasant. To be reminded, for more than a passing moment, that this is the man I chose. That this is the man I can’t wait to spend time with. And not just so I can gripe about the dog – though that’s in there, too.
But because this is the man who makes my heart pitter-patter. The one whose eyes, when focused on me, light me up from the very inside of my being. His are the strong arms I love to feel around me when I fall asleep, and the soft lips on the back of my neck that make me tingle while I’m fixing dinner.
I suppose it’s time to interrupt my lazy morning and let the animals out, lest I find “presents” on the carpet. But I look forward to my lazy Sunday chores, thinking about my sweetie, and awaiting his arrival.
Sure, it will be filled with needy kids and ‘tomorrow’s a work day’ and ‘did you remember to call the gutter people?’ But there will also be a spark of that’s right, this is the man I love. And he’s home!
I hope you’re spending a lazy Sunday with people you love. Or at least thinking about them.