The house even sounds empty, doesn’t it? You walk in and your footfall seems to echo; the sounds of the refrigerator clanking on startles you with its suddenness; imaginary kid sounds emanate from empty upstairs rooms. Pictures on the mantel stare back, and you remember when they were that age, and marvel at quickly time has passed. You miss your children: the laughter in the house; the hum of their constant presence; the palpable sensation that they are there, and that they need you. They were job one for as long as you can recall. Now they’re gone, and you miss them.
But there’s something else you miss. You miss each other; the easy interaction before the kids came along; the ability to throw a change of clothes and a toothbrush in a bag, jump in the car, tear away to New York, or San Francisco, or Kansas City for a long weekend, and never even think about the house, or pets, or kids. It was so easy, and you took for granted that it always would be. All you needed was a little cash, and a roadmap, and you were perfectly content. ...Read More
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