monday morning

Matt is gone long before I wake.

When the alarm sings, I hit snooze through sleep. Soon after the giant puppy leaps into our bed. Something that’s not allowed with Matt there. As he snuggles in, the boy, as if on cue, makes his way into the bed as well. All three of us huddle close until my bladder and time ticking break the spell.

I get ready as Ben dresses, lets the dog out and has his breakfast in his young hurried way.

Stop. I’m not ready for this morning.

With the dog back inside, my boy shouts, “Bye Mom!!” and just like that, we’re down to one.

I send a inside joke text to my husband from the weekend prior.

Don’t forget about me out there in the world.

I finish making myself presentable enough as Eddie lays in the hall outside the bathroom and gives me the quintessential puppy eyes. He understands.

Don’t leave. Please. You’re going to go like the other guys aren’t you?  Don’t leave.

I think of yesterday; my favorite day of the week.

Sunday paper, CBS Sunday morning, coffee, dog park, laundry, reading by the fire, baking, naps, a warm dinner, Amazing Race… doing the whole day together.

Nine short hours later it’s just me and the dog.

I feel sad.

Not because of work but because it will be a full week before I see my boys again. What with indoor soccer, homework, my workout schedule, the busyness of the week, it won’t be until Friday night before we breathe and look at each other again.

The puppy follows me from the bathroom, to the bedroom and sneezes as I spray perfume.

Follows me back to the bathroom, then the kitchen and watches as I make my lunch and get coffee.

His eyes continue to plead.

Not today. Isn’t it a stay home day?

He follows me downstairs to his spot in the mudroom, to sleep and wait for his people to return.

As if on autopilot I’m out the door, like the rest of my family, on Monday morning.