The dishwasher is running. Dinner is only half-cooked.
I should be in the kitchen handwashing the sink full, and scrubbing counters down.
There's a load of laundry that needs to be folded.
Trucks zoom across the living room and hit the wall.
The boys are being too loud.
I should ask them to calm down, be gentler, use an inside voice.
Instead, I step over that pile of books, Cade's blankets, and the plastic animals that litter the floor.
I crawl next to my husband in his chair.
He kisses my forehead and wraps an arm around me.
I ask him about his day.
My head finds his shoulder and my eyes close.
I tell him about the funny things Cade said today.
We talk about what vegetable I should cook with the chicken for dinner.
I lace my fingers into his. I find his ring and spin it.
He hugs me tighter and we linger...There.
I can touch him, and see him, and I fold his laundry.
I bicker because he marched into the house with muddy boots.
But. There's boots. Those boots are back in the middle of the floor and...
I don't care about the mud. Truly.
My eyes remain closed and I listen to his voice.
I remember what it was like to clutch a phone to my ear...
I remember tracing seam that runs down the side of the phone.
I'd trace it with my finger until my finger went numb.
My finger is numb now. I open my eyes and look... His ring. The line in his ring, I found it.
I kiss his cheek.
I pull myself away.
Dinner needs to be cooked.
Bubba can help set the table, I think, as I pull four plates from the cabinet.