Fill the Empty Hours
Musings

The Empty Hours

Alone in the Empty Hours

Alone in my marriage, I found ways to fill the empty hours of the evening. The pursuit of knitted perfection was always at the forefront of my mind. A cup of tea. A good book. Plenty of sleep for my restless spirit.

And then the children came – a whirlwind, a blur of happiness and heartache, profound hope for their future. My boy, so smart, so artistic – his mother’s twin. My girl, my peacemaker, my calming presence – an exact replica of her mother in every way. Lost teeth. Haircuts. Growing pains. And the dark days that I thought none of us would survive.

And then, like mist, they’re gone.

My boy, so smart, so artistic – now a daddy to a boy, so smart, so artistic. My girl, my peacemaker, my calming presence – I want to be like her in every way. How I miss them.

Now, alone, I find ways to fill the empty hours of the evening. The pursuit of knitted perfection is always at the forefront of my mind. A cup of tea. A good book. Plenty of sleep for my aching bones.

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