I love Fridays.
My husband works out of town, in California more specifically, Monday through Thursday. When he finally gets home on Fridays, I am positively overjoyed. I miss him so much during the week that it is almost unbearable.
It is really hard being apart so much. I feel almost…disconnected, for lack of a better word, from him when he is gone. We don’t get to talk as often as I would like to. When we do, it is only a perfunctory conversation; the basics that include “hi, how are you?” and “how was your day?” Usually, the conversation doesn’t go much beyond the “I’m fine” and “it was good”. I know there is so much more than that for the both of us, but it is like neither one of us wants to burden the other with the mundane details.
When he gets home on Fridays, there is so much joy in this house. The kids are happy to see him. I am overcome with glee.
He works so hard Monday through Friday and then he has 8 hours worth of travel to get home. So, when he gets here, he is exhausted. He works from home on Fridays, so that day is usually spent. But, at least he is here, under our roof and in my arms.
Nothing more really matters.