Home Late

Tom got home from work late the other night. This is extremely rare. He is always on time and sometimes even comes home early to finish up his work on the computer. But he was late. Normally, when he is late, he will call me. No call. It got later and later. I blogged for a while, then settled into a comfy chair and read. When I looked up, it was quite late. He had never called.


Having a good imagination is a blessing when you are reading a good book. The characters come alive in your head and move around, going through their lives in vividly visualized settings. It's a curse when you start to imagine what could have happened to your loved ones. I tried to read but couldn't concentrate. I decided I would call him at 6:00 if he was not home. It got darker and colder.


Not outside.


In the house.


It was quiet. And dark. And cold. I turned on more lamps and checked the heat. It wasn't really dark and cold. It just felt that way. Being alone would feel this way. Not having him around would feel this way. If he never came home it would feel this way.


And then I heard the garage door open. I felt a little silly when he told me he had stopped at the grocery for a couple of things. And then had to go to another store to get just what he wanted.


I tried to tell him how strange it would be if he never came home again. How lonely. How dark and cold. He hugged me and loved me up a little, then said "You would manage. You are a strong woman." And hopped in the shower.


He doesn't really understand. I would manage. I am a strong woman. But he takes away the dark. He takes away the cold. He...makes me stronger.