you can come home any time now.
I have learned a few things while you've been away.
I've learned the value of a well pump.
I've learned how to replace the headlights on a vehicle.
I can actually start a mean fire in the wood stove ...
although I still can't get it hot enough to set off the fire alarm.
I'm still not doing a very good job of cooking dinner on the nights I work.
I've nearly gotten the Christmas preparations ready,
although I still don't have a clue what we're eating for Christmas dinner.
Your laundry is washed and I've hung a fresh towel for you
because I'm afraid after almost two weeks of cabin living you're
going to desperately need it.
I'm skipping the hospital Christmas party tonite because you can't go with me,
and I don't want to go alone.
We have a whiz bang group of people coming over tomorrow evening
to celebrate the Christmas season and the fact that your
baby daughter turns 14 years old today.
She'd really like you to be here ... really, really.
Then there are the things I can't do.
I really don't know how to get the Volkswagen running again.
It quit nearly a week ago and Brock has done what he can.
I really can't fix Blayde's truck either. That one is now parked in the "garage".
Your truck still runs. I even go out there and run it for you once in a while.
We miss you at home ...
where the warm fleece sheets are on our
feather stuffed bed ... and piled with pillows.
where we still have about 7 pounds of coffee beans waiting to make
a mean pot of coffee ... just for you.
where the Christmas tree still has some needles and looks beautiful.
where we're waiting to hear your stories and hope you're writing them down for us.
where I watch the internet every day to see what the sea is doing
between you and me.
where I wait and hope you'll be here sometime soon.
If there was any way to get you home sooner ....
I'd be on it ... yesterday.