He didn’t come home last night. I walked in and expected to see him on the couch, his bed for the last year or so.  But he wasn’t. His blanket was gone. I peeked into the bedroom thinking maybe he snuck into the bed for comfort. It was empty. He wasn’t coming home tonight. I felt angry at him. Not even a text to say he wouldn’t be home. I try to shrug it off and go to sleep. It takes me a long time to fall asleep and I don’t sleep well through the night. When I wake up in the morning he is home. I give him an appallingly dirty look and don’t say a word.  Continue reading →