I wish I knew where he was. I wish I knew he was okay. But it's now Saturday, 5:30 pm, and I haven't heard from him since Thursday. It could be he has no minutes left on his mobile phone, or he hasn't charged it, or he lost it, or it was stolen.
And this is what I was dreading about this journey: the not knowing. The days when I would not hear from him. The minutes turn into hours and then turn into days. He's probably fine, but it's the not knowing.
Now the calm exterior is cracking, I'm having a tough time concentrating on anything too long because I'm always checking to see if he called. N is getting a little bit more difficult, since I don't have anyone to hand her off to. Last night we watched the Ant Bully and I made popcorn. It was nice and it was a nice movie.
Today she woke up earlier than during the week, when I have to push her out of bed. She must've been up before 7 am, and bugging me to "get up, stand up, it's time to waaaake up" just how daddy sings it, except he rhymes it with "it's time to go to school." We went to the supermarket to buy a few supplies for the week, and she didn't want to go back to the apartment. I finally convinced her the ice cream sandwiches were going to melt, we needed to get going.
But nothing distracts me enough from the fact that I haven't heard from him. As soon as I do, I will post.
Waiting...
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