missing Andrew

My mother just had hip surgery, and since I’m the unemployed daughter at the moment, I offered to help with her recovery. So here I am, a couple of hundred miles away, missing my husband.

I don’t think absence makes the heart grow fonder exactly; it makes it more appreciative.

I miss holding hands while we pray over meals and before we go to sleep at night. I miss the day to day encouragement and patience and gratitude for every tiny thing I do, and the willingness to let go of the things I don’t do but should … like laundry.

I love my parents, and I’m glad to help, but I already feel ready to go home. To my home.

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