Suburban Goddess

It was exactly as I thought it would be when I came home yesterday. The presents are still scattered around the tree, dirty dishes still in the sink as I left them. A single lamp was on, casting a dim light around the open room. His shoes were gone. Aside from that, it looked like any other day when I come home; the only thing missing was him, nose buried in the laptop sitting on the sofa.

Reality hit me with devestating force when I walked into our bedroom. Everything still there; covers thrown back where he’d slept the night before. Toothbrush still next to the sink. But the closet; the entire left side was now empty, a huge gaping hole reminiscent of the feeling in my heart. I burst into tears, the type that shake your entire body until you have to sit down. As I sat on the closet floor, letting out the emotion that I’ve kept pent up for the past few months, I felt a tiny hand on my back. I turned to find Alex peering at me with concern on her face.

“Mommy?” she said in her tiny, teeny voice. With a maturity I did not know she possessed, she patted me on the back, “K, Mommy, K.” And she climbed into my lap. Here I was, supposedly the one in charge, and my almost 2-year-old was the rock that was holding me steady. I held her tight, squeezing her in a tight hug until she tried to wiggle free. She patted my face and gave me her now patented smile. With that smile came the strength I needed to get up, pull myself back together, and take her out of that wretched closet into the living room, where we sat and read her favorite book together.

I don’t know how she knew I needed her at the moment. I love her more than words could ever describe. God gave me an Angel and she was watching over me today.

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