As I sit here at my empty desk... in our empty room... staring at our empty walls where our pictures once hung, I am filled with... an emptiness that I can't quite articulate. I look over at our borrowed bed, a queen size that should be large enough for both of us (let's be honest, I don't take up a lot of room), yet feels confining whenever I lay down. No more red armoire or funky aqua blue night stands that I picked out at Pinky's in Dubai and had delivered for $50 to our home in Muscat. No more bedside lamp that I turned on every-single-night to read for a few minutes before going to bed.
It's quiet inside our house. The desktop computer that we usually left on day and night no longer hums its quiet tune. The girls noisy toys (the ones with batteries that I oh-so-enjoy) are packed up, crated, and are beginning their journey to India. My cappuccino machine, my favorite appliance in my kitchen, no longer wakes everyone up before 7 am, as I try to jump start my eyelids and my sanity. Our house now echoes with the sounds of emptiness... and cockroaches chirping.
Tomorrow Matt goes back to work after a wonderful 3-day weekend, and I begin our final preparations for our departure. With a trip to the Government Vet in the early morning, I can almost guarantee that I'll get lost with the shoddy directions. I'll then follow it up with lunch and an afternoon play-date with Riley and her 4 friends, a mini ballet recital for just me (we'll be missing the big recital next week), dinner (remember, I have to use up all the food in the fridge), and back to burning DVDs.
Right now, in these next few minutes I'll be enjoying the end of my silence, for I know what this week brings.