Already there is a rhythym to our days. Our days together and my days alone. It is much quieter and we don't always fill it with talk. Evenings, we settle in, each in our own space. There are certain things that happen every day, such as long walks with the dogs, laundry, and knitting. There are certain things that happen every week, out for dinner or a beer, church. We are adjusting and it is good.
Our little bit of rhythym was disrupted. Our girls came Friday, bursting through the door with tight and extra long embraces, an extra dog, bearing birthday gifts from my family and a pan of cinnamon rolls which went promptly in the oven. The next morning we awoke to the beginnings of a snow storm. We walked to breakfast at the local cafe
We played Rockband
We lived as family. And just as quickly, they left. We shovelled snow, we made a small dinner, and back to our spaces with a movie, me knitting, him with the dogs.