When I don't miss you

I don't miss you when it's Friday afternoon and you wouldn't be coming home anyway.

When it's Saturday night and you wouldn't be here anyway.

When I do miss you:  on holidays, like this past Labor Day at a friend's pool - you would have loved that.  When we went tubing with our son, you would have loved racing him down the river.  When we walked through the Indian shop, you would have bought him the knife he wanted.

When I go to bed alone, I miss you.

When I wake up alone, I miss you.

When we fight on the phone and you say something nasty like "I'll see you in a year."

In church, when we sit by ourselves, P and I.  When we're on a trip and you're not there.  When I wish I could call you.  When I wish I could see you.  When I wake up in the middle of the night.

When I read something I want to share with you.  When I'm alone in the doctor's office.  When it's time to make biscuits.  When we run out of bread.  When someone's got to be driven home late.  When it's time to clean out the trash.  When the lawn gets knee high.  When the garden is dying because it wasn't watered enough.

So there are some times I don't miss you.  But a lot more when I do.  I know, if I would just drop the TPO and let you come home you would be here.  In body maybe, like you have been for a few months this year. But I'd rather miss you most of the time than have you here using an drinking and lying and ignoring us and wait until you're clear on why you want to be here. And if you really do want to be with me.  All the time.

love,
Me