J just got back with the kids about an hour ago. I am so thankful he put Carson down for me tonight. He's been having a really hard time going to bed for me, and I was really worried about how tonight would go after the long weekend with daddy there. He went peacefully to bed with his brothers for j, and I was relieved beyond words.
J stood in the hallway looking at a portrait of the NYC skyline while waiting to see if the baby was really going to stay in bed. I smiled and said "hey, we were there."
We took our first-ever trip together this summer to NYC. I never thought it would be our last trip together. I walked too fast.
We saw a couple of shows together while we were there, and I really did have a wonderful time. I thought we'd visit again.
He gave me a hug before he left. I managed to just revel in the feeling of being held in his arms, listened to that metronome in his chest, smelled the scent of his soap. I thanked him for helping me with the baby. I hope he knows how much I meant that, because I'm not very good at showing my appreciation sometimes, even when I really want to.
He forgot the big folder full of bills here. I have no idea if I'll talk to him or see him before he gets the kids again on Thursday. Part of me wants him to turn that car around whenever he pulls away, and part of me wants to let him go, knowing that he feels better about himself when he isn't here with me right now. That part is winning out the more I distance myself from what isn't and try to stay focused on what is. I wish he looked happy. I wish he was standing tall and feeling more confident in his decisions than I feel in mine. Or, forget all that, I wish I had a million dollars to offer him to give us one more chance to take another trip together. I'd walk more slowly this time.