I daresay this is why the children spend their afternoons with faces glued to windowpanes, watching for Dad. :D Even on our especially pleasant days, they do this. I can’t blame them; I do the same. My kitchen window looks across a blank parking lot at his office door. I save my dish washing for the hour in which he finishes work so I can watch that door—so that I might enjoy the thrill of seeing it open, of seeing our hero emerge from his long day’s journey to make that short, remarkable trip home.
Where is that guy, anyway?
And when he comes in what joy he brings with him, what order, what peace! Thanks, Dad, for being so great we can’t any of us stand to be away from you.
5 comments:
LOL. Pravda, pravda.
Thanks to some masterful planning on someone's part long ago, our house is so very close to the church that we can hear the church's back door shut a second before our back door opens. O happy sound! And on days when Dad's been out and about, I have to stop everyone (myself included) from charging out into the garage before he's driven all the way in :)
I've always felt that Penelope had the raw-er end of the deal. But I suppose that only increases our heroes' welcome when they reappear at long last. :D
Wow. I know you ladies go through a lot with your husbands' vocations, so I'm glad there's no 35-mile commute (like my husband has) on top of everything else.
R: I have an off brand version of those potatoes you're looking for, and I'm not currently using it. Kum by ya, would you?
RM: We have that garage problem, too. :D Additionally, I found a little poem with a final line that sums up my probable reaction to 20 years of solitude, should my husband have been less husbandly and more . . . epic ;): http://www.evolvingbeauty.com/myth/penelope/penelope.htm
Christine: Wow, yourself! 35 miles is more than enough. Truth be told, I can't complain about my bit in this gig; Rev. Gauntlets has to bear the heavy end of the yoke. ;)
I've got you all beat since my husband's office is in the home. When there's a blowout of epic proportions he can hear my lamentations and starts running the bath water. Love that guy!
(I'm so spoiled!)
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