Late at night. Alone again… unless you count the quiet whistle of snoring Ri as company. The kids went to bed hours ago. Ya only returned once to declare he could not sleep.
I’ve edited my pictures and saved them (though renaming files is harder with the stick of keys after Ri’s accidental coffee dumping incident yesterday).
I’ve scrolled through the nonsense of Facebook and found nothing of merit to hold attention. It’s incredible how much time is wasted on that site. You can’t live through the social network.
Our room is dark. The silence deafening. And he remains downstairs. The television sounds foreign – is it a movie watching him as he sleeps on the couch? Is it yet another season of XBOX football? A new mission on some role play game?
We used to spend these hours before bed together. Even if immersed in separate tasks, the proximity was welcome, soothing. That connection wanes with the increasingly more common distance.
I could call him. But the phone’s probably dead. I could tip toe downstairs, snuggle close, coax him to our room. But Ri would probably take over the bed. To put her in her room is futile. She stays only temporarily, and returns irate, weary.
So I will call an end to this day. Plug up my phone. Close my eyes. And dream about success that right now seems to be sliding out of my grasp.
Tomorrow things have to improve.