empty

There is an emptiness here at home tonight. It is quiet in a way that feels hollow. I feel the calmness of a void in which time is both fast and slow. Where schedule and routine give way to... nothingness.

It's not that I haven't kept myself busy, not that at all. I puttered about the house this morning before doing an hour and twenty minute run, nearly half of that pushing Liam and Evan (my recompense to Kevin after inviting him on a long run at no notice). I did yard work when I got home, excising some 70% or more of the potato vine (to which I remain allergic) which grows out of control at the corner of the garage. I got a haircut. Shopped at Macy's -- bought a pair of shorts. Went to the bank. Paid bills online. Shopped at Target -- bought another pair of shorts and more baby-proofing supplies. And I tried to shop at Home Depot, but they close at 8pm on Sundays.

It's just never this quiet here anymore. So quiet I could hear when I'd left the hose on outside where I'd watered the hydrangeas. So quiet the rooftop attic fan tricks me into thinking the AC is running. So very quiet that time itself pauses to take notice.

What's missing is a wonderful mother and a beautiful child. A hug and a kiss. A smile and a squeal. My anchors.

Dad