It’s early morning, still dark outside, and I’m on my way to the airport again. I kiss my husband good-bye saying, “Call you tonight” as I run out the door with my luggage rolling behind me.
My busy workweek has begun. I’ll be at client offices through Thursday and then I head back home again. I keep extremely busy all week and the days go very fast – for me anyway.
While I talk with my husband every night, I am so busy with my schedule that I often forget what it’s like for him to be home alone. Though he travels frequently himself, I usually leave him on Monday and he heads downtown to his office.
In the evenings, I head to my hotel where I order a meal that someone else cooks. He returns to a house where the kitchen is quiet. He makes himself dinner and shares the time with our dog Toby at his feet.
He retreats to his home office in the evening, where we talk on the phone for an hour or more. He then heads off to a half-empty bed where he falls asleep next to my pillow. He wakes up and repeats this solo process each day until I arrive home at midnight late in the week.
He doesn’t say too much about my travel though I know that solitude bothers him. He’ll never ask me to stop traveling, but I know he’d love it if I did. He also knows that to stop the traveling would destroy my spirit as I love being on the road.
So we continue this ritual of me leaving him every week, counting the days and nights until I’m back home again and we can share a few days together.
I have probably left my husband over 500 times. Thank goodness he’s always happy to let me return again.