Eric is working in a location where communication is impossible.
He'll be back tomorrow.
I miss his touch, having him wrap around my body while I sleep, his voice in my ear.
I took a wooden spoon in the closet after a hot shower where I fantasized about his print on my ass.
Ten swats on the left side, a stinging reminder of the last time he was home.
I switched to the right, one swat and a child's voice rang out.
"Mom?" it questioned. "What are you doing?"
I quickly threw on some clothes and came out of the closet, wooden spoon in hand. Grabbing the bathroom rug, I announced, "Just beating the dust out of the rugs, honey."
I guess when Eric returns, I'll have to let him know my butt is now known as "the rug".
Can't wait til his plane lands!!
He's home all week.