In the meantime

This morning I woke in the still darkness to a minty kiss on my cheek and a whispered good-bye -- the last I'll feel for a month.

I tried to curl back into an uninterrupted slumber, but to no avail.

The baby woke just before 6 and the bigger kids soon after. There was a wet diaper, a dry throat and a new rash to attend to, and then breakfast.

I sent a frantic message to Nick's cell phone as it soared with him over the Atlantic, thinking he had mistakenly left with my car keys, then I realized they were stuck in the front door.

The sky grew lighter, but the sun hid behind a thick ceiling of clouds.

I scrambled to get my head around how to triumph over this day, the remainder of the holiday weekend and the next four weeks.

I checked the pool schedules and decided on an afternoon swim.

I pulled chicken out of the freezer and chose a pesto pasta recipe for dinner.

The kids got out sidewalk chalk and took to the driveway while I rocked on the porch and scribbled a week-long menu and grocery list.

I printed some craft tutorials for our school week, researched Halloween costumes and pondered a shower.

The wheels were turning now and my day and first week without him were starting to look like something I could get on board with.

Then, as I passed through the kitchen and glanced through the sliding door to our backyard, I saw the first scarlet piece of foliage and I remembered:

It will be fall when he returns.

By then, the leaves of red, brown and gold will outnumber the green.

The air will be crisp in the morning.

My sundresses will be in the back of the closet and jeans will be in the front.

We will have completed our first month of school.

Ballet and tumble classes will be in full swing.

Liliana will most certainly have lost at least one more tooth.

We might have new friends.

I will have turned 34.

So much has to happen, while we wait for him to return.