An Empty House

It’s quiet here.  Too quiet.  There’s no baby crying.  There’s no diaper to change.  There’s no little icon of my wife asking for popsicles before bed.  There’s no one beside me at 11:21 PM in our room.  The baby monitor is off.  The night light my wife refuses to turn off, is off.  There’s nothing to wake me.  It is my house for about 6 days, but it’s not my home.  A house without my girls is not a home.  It’s the house I live in.  Sure it’s comfortable, but it’s not my life.  My life is to cuddle with my girls before bed and watch Jeapardy.  My life is to “love on” my daughter, tell a story, and put her to bed.  My life is to turn our minds off and relax to our favorite shows, curled up on the couch with an icy, with my wife.  My life is not quiet.  I like quiet, but I already miss my wife.  She’s visiting her home town in Delaware with her family.  I missed her before she left.  The whole house talks to me.  It tells me small stories of tiny details that make me long to see them.  An empty house is nothing more than bricks, siding, roofs, etc.  A home is where you live, love, and learn with your family.  I’ll trade the quiet for noise of my life anyday.