Well, my whirlwind quintathalon vacation of cycling, swimming, tubing, Spades and burger eating has come to an end and I’m on my way home with my brother, his wife and their daughter.
My wife and daughters are staying another week.
Generally speaking, I hate the trip home. I’m one of those guys who despises the “getting there” and would much rather just be there already – especially on the way home. It’s 10 am, my phone is blowing up, I’ve got about 40 hours worth of catch-up work that has to be done before the group ride, I’m tired from absolutely breaking my butt on the water yesterday…and I’m not with my Babymama and daughters.
There once was a time when I would celebrate a little dad’s home alone time. I was no peach to be around and my wife was just as bad. We were constantly at each other’s throats and very close to divorce at the time. In fact, we were down to that final choice: Give up on the marriage or give up on the divorce (which pretty much meant forgive, forget and learn to live as a better husband and wife).
We chose the latter and I forgave my wife (and she, me). I worked my recovery program at my marriage, and my wife did hers. We forgave and let go of the anger and chose to love each other completely. Just for today for the rest of our lives. That was more than a few years ago and now there is no celebrating as I’m heading home. No jokes about being a bachelor for a week, no looking forward to eating whatever I want for dinner. Because one way or another, I’ll be eating that dinner alone. Most of my rides this week will be solo.
We had to cease fighting to win the war. With the peace treaty etched in stone, now it’s just a bummer to be away from her.
And as sad as I am right now, I still have something to be grateful for: I am grateful that I miss my wife that much. Now that’s something to celebrate, and so I shall.
Stay tuned. I’m back with the fun posts in tomorrow…