Most of the time

John can be gone a lot. Sometimes it seems like most of the time, but he's been known to stay in town for weeks at a time. And although I miss him, this is just something that comes with the job. We knew what we signed up for. Somedays are harder than others, but for the most part, I manage. I suppose some day he may decide he's sick of it all and get a job here in town, going to the same office every day, seeing the same people, working on the same computers, and dealing with the same issues every day. He's not too keen on this at the moment, and past experience tells me that I'd rather have him happy with his job then always in town but miserable.

So most of the time I am okay with all the traveling. It can be stressful, and tiresome. But Nick is getting older, and I can leave him in charge if I need to in the evenings. Most of the time, I just plug along as best as I can. People would comment that they would freak out if their husbands were out of town, they wouldn't be able to sleep, and I admit that once upon a time this was more true than not. Many nights I slept with my biggest kitchen knife next to my bed. Most nights now, I stay up later than usual, because nobody is expecting me to come to bed soon, and laying in bed awake, being painfully aware of how alone I am is more than I want to deal with many nights. So I stay up late. I catch up on my shows on the DVR, I read, I've been known to make caramels, or mop, or surf the Internet. When my head finally hits the pillow, it's only moments before I am totally unconscious, and I generally sleep like a rock because nobody is there to bother me.

So last night I stayed up late reading in the family room, and finally decide it's time for me to make my way to bed. I am doing the last minute checks of the house, making sure lights are off, doors are locked, etc. I notice that the ceiling fan in the family room is off. Christopher can reach the bottom of the light switches, and periodically turns off the fans, which is not going to be so good for our AC bill this summer. I turn the fan on, turn the lights off, check a couple of things, then make my way to the entryway where the stairs leading to my bedroom are. And then I hear it. I stop dead in my tracks in the dark entryway. All the lights are off, the kids are in bed, the house is totally dark and quiet except for this noise. There is a faint rustling noise coming from the family room. I had just spent the last two hours in there, alone, reading, and I hadn't noticed that noise before. But there it is again. Panic and terror totally grip me. I stand there for a few moments in the darkness totally paralyzed with fear, listening. Praying that maybe it's one of my kids who had a bad dream, or wet the bed, or needs a drink. But it doesn't sound like that. In my mind someone is in my house, and what's worse they seemed to have been waiting for me to leave. They were watching, waiting. The noise stops for a moment, then there it is again. A rustling sound. So I do what any sane person in my position would do, and I grab one of the little things decorating my entryway table to defend myself, and turn on the hall light to see better. After announcing myself with that light, I edge my way into the kitchen to see into the family room, heart trying to leap out of my chest, frantically clutching my table decor, and with a relief so profound I want to cry, I see the Mother's day banner rustling in the breeze created by the ceiling fan I just turned on.

So after that, I curled up in bed, read until past one in the morning, so there would be no chance of consciousness after my eyes were finally allowed to close. I'm tired this morning, but the good news is John will be home tonight, until he has to take off to Vegas for some convention next week. Most of the time I think I deal pretty well with all the traveling, but some of the time, every once in awhile, I don't deal so well.