Last night was the first time Brenna and I were apart since the day we know refer to as “surprise day,” and it really made me miss her.
It’s not that a night off from the reminders of changing my bandages every hour (I mean, really, what’s the point, if the guts are going to spill out, they’re going to spill out), but it’s the little things like her muttering about the Kitchen & Bath store, enjoying David’s newest words together, or like the other day, she returned from the charity shop with one of my favourite jumpers (I can’t believe it didn’t sell!) just in time for Autumn.
David missed her too. He woke up with night terrors, shouting “zombie zombie!”, which for me was confusing because he’s switched from calling me “dadda” to zombie (it’s a good sign of verbal development when a young one can work on the “z” sound!) and so in the middle of the night, I didn’t know if he was calling for me, was dreaming about zombies, or if the zombie uprising had actually started and the undead were clawing at his window.
I checked in on him and he wasn’t that fussed to see me, there were no corpses at the window (always a good day!) and so I figured he lad a little night terror, which made me sad.
Even sadder, however, was when I brought him into “our” bed (I say our because I’m still sleeping in the guest room until Brenna can get used to the scent of my decomposing flesh — Old Spice is not enough) and gave me a cuddle. Cheeky of me, I know, to decamp to the good bed when she’s away, but I figure she’s off having fun at the Kitchen & Bath convention, and since she never reads these posts anyway, a quick load of laundry will erase all traces of my bed theft. Anyway, little David kept asking for mama, mama, mama.
So, we cuddled together, both missing Brenna. Hopefully tonight when she gets home she’ll let me get closer than the “one pillow” rule typically allows so I can give her a hug.