Home Alone

This morning I woke up to the sound of my alarm instead of the sounds of kids arguing over the Nintendo.

I ate breakfast without Lincoln begging me to make chocolate milk.

I took a shower without Anna Lynn flushing the toilet right as I was working Tea Tree Shampoo into my scalp.

I grabbed my keys and briefcase. Wow, my iPhone was right where I left it the night before. I didn’t have to follow the fart sounds in order to find my phone in the hands of my oldest daughter hiding deep in the couch cushions.

I didn’t have four kids grabbing every limb of my body begging me to stay home and take them to Chuck E Cheese.

I left the house minus the yelling and the begging and the arguing.

But it wasn’t the same.

I pulled my car out of the garage and looked back towards the house. All I saw were two recycle bins.

Most days I see three kids waving their arms so violently you’d think they were stranded on an island.

I rolled down the car window expecting to hear voices yelling, “We love you!!”

But all I heard was my neighbor’s sprinkler.

I’m glad the circus rolls back in to town tomorrow afternoon.