Those kinds of days don't happen often enough (and thank you, Allison and Dawn, for going with me!).
The lovely husband leaves all the time and the kids aren't phased by it. But when I go, things get a little funny.
E wrote me notes while I showered. She'd leave them on the lid of the toilet, leave the bathroom, and then yell at me to poke my head out of the shower to read them. They were numbered:
1) I hope you're having a nice shower.
2) I hope it's soapy.
3) I hope you don't get shampoo in your eyes!
4) I hope you like my notes. I love you.
5) Don't leave.
Of course, I left, and apologetically. But before I went she made me one final note. She tucked it in my back pocket and made me promise to leave it there so I could feel her love with me. I felt affirmed, then, because those are the words I whisper every time I leave her someplace she doesn't want to be without me: "feel this hug? I'm filling you up with my love. You'll feel my love with you as you go."
I was gone for about six hours and of course, the kids were fine. The lovely husband isn't called that for nothing. When I walked back in the house, they were all too busy playing to greet me with more than a glance. Eventually, though, their game came to an end and when E did finally come over to me, she stuck her hand in my back pocket before she even spoke.
My fidelity was rewarded and when her hand came back out with her own note, I got the biggest hug. "I'll always come back," I whispered in her hair, that she might indeed notarize the evidence that it's okay for me to leave at all.
She didn't acknowledge the comment. But I had the pleasure of a day build around my own desires, the gratification of trust in my return minutely more cemented, and
I got to meet Jay McCarroll.