It was nothing

After a good two and a half months at home, my husband is off again for a work trip, this time to the land of the Lion King. The Seabees are busy there. Beware, pirates.



This trip is only going to last 11 days, 5 spent traveling, so we didn’t weep and cry at parting. In fact, I woke up this morning, and the first thing I said to my esposo was “I really am mad at you.”


Nice way to say goodbye, don’t you think?


It was raining out, and I woke up tired; I guess I didn’t sleep long enough to get over my irritation from the night before.


I won’t tell you why I was mad. It’s too personal. And too petty. But I chewed on my wound for a good couple of hours.

Then we went to Mass together and shared the kiss of peace. And it stopped raining. We drive to the airport together, so I could take the car home. The café at the airport was out of coffee, so I could transfer whatever remaining peevishness I had left to it. By the time my husband boarded the plane, we were laughing together.

As I left the airport parking lot, I turned on the radio, which was tuned to the country music station. Some song was playing about a man who lost his house in a tornado. “That was nothing” because he had also lost his dad, his brother, his best friend, his left hand, and his wife. “That was something.”

Gotta love country music.