Coming Home

There is something so wonderful about coming home after a trip. Even though I was only gone for about 63 hours, which is a little over two and a half days, coming home felt special.

I told the girls about the trip a couple of weeks before I left. I wanted to give them time to process the idea of me leaving before they were slapped in the face with the actuality of it.

When I got home Sunday night, three minutes later than scheduled, the girls had the back door open before I had even pulled into the garage. Olivia stood on the top step, her hands clasped to her chest, waiting for me to get out of the car.

Alyssa had no such patience. She was at the car, opening the door herself so she could hug me. She needed that physical reassurance that I was truly home.

Even as I hugged Alyssa, I called to Olivia, “Come here!”

She giggled with glee and ran down the stairs to join in the hug Alyssa and I were sharing.

This entire past week has been similar. When I get home from work, the girls are there to greet me, to show me affection and love.

We’re a pretty affectionate family already but when Mom spends two days and two nights away from her babies, those babies feel it. We’ve been making up for those missed hugs, those missed kisses, those missed “I love you”s.

My house is a mess right now, the kitchen floor needs swept and mopped, the entryway needs swept and decluttered. The carpets need to be vacuumed and there is a basket of clothes in the girls’ room that needs to be put away.

But my children know they are loved. They know their mom missed them while she was away and in the end, that is so much more important than an immaculate house.

It’s nice to go away because it’s wonderful to come home again.