I woke up on my own schedule Saturday morning. The night before I’d gone to bed on my own schedule. I ate when and what I wanted and was going to the gym when I wanted, without having to arrange to tag-team with my husband about one of us staying home with the kids.
I had 24 glorious hours home alone after I got home from a business trip and before my husband and children got home from our Spring Break at Grandma Marshmallow‘s.
I do love my time alone.
As I pressed and poured my coffee, I heard the news of a midflight rupture in the fuselage of a Southwest Airlines flight only hours before. News microphones were thrust into shell-shocked passengers’ faces. Some had been texting goodbyes to loved ones.
My entire family was about to get on a Southwest Airlines flight to come fill up my home again.
I wondered briefly if I might be punished for enjoying my time alone as much as I do. I sent word to the Universe that I also loved my family and wanted much much much much more time with them.
Finally, in the early evening, I drove up to the Arrivals lane at the airport and gave the biggest hugs imaginable to Tessa, Reed and Roger. The looks in our eyes and the leaping of our hearts as we put our family back together again was especially sweet.
I am grateful for both the void and for the fullness.
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