Dang this light any way.
I have exactly one more week. I am going to miss being able to look out this window any time of day I please. Going to miss being able to watch the light as it streams in on the dirty dishes, highlighting the remains of the morning oatmeal or the froth lines of my latte in the big cup.
Will I even know what to do with myself when I sit down in my ergonomic, purple chair that sits behind my monitor; in the office that was once a storage closet? How the heck are my eyes going to be able to read emails if they are full of tears instead of the image of my sweet little man? Will my arms understand not having the weight of the little dude in them? My hands will certainly not like holding onto the mouse and tapping the letter painted keys. No, they would much rather be changing diapers and tracing the shape of his ears all day.
Dang, it this is gonna be hard. I hope he will forgive me for having to go back to work.