The Three Musketeers

Yesterday, Papa took Z to visit some relatives and eat pupusas so I went home in the afternoon to an empty house. Perfect me time, right? Knitting, reading, maybe a little junk tv.


I couldn’t figure out what to do. I did a little housework, emptied the dishwasher, changed some sheets, picked up, and then I still had time on my hands. I couldn’t focus. The house felt so empty in the late afternoon. I just wasn’t used to having such a stretch of time to myself. Not having to make dinner for anyone. No one to play with! Eventually, I settled into a Real Housewives of Atlanta episode on my computer and worked on finishing a mitten. And then I read for a little bit, but it was still a little lonely. What did I used to do after work? I wondered. When I was single, or even just part of a couple? Napped, maybe? Watched crappy tv? I really didn’t remember.

Papa called and said he and Z were coming home early and I was relieved.

“I was feeling a little lonely,” I said.

“Yeah, I think we missed you too.” Papa replied.

I smiled. We’ve become such a family unit. The Three Musketeers. We don’t often get time all together because Papa often works weekends and nights. (He’s a chef.) But we aren’t whole without the third. Isn’t it funny how that happens? I’m not sure if it’s good or bad. Or a little good and a little bad together probably.

That night when we were putting Z to bed after he showed us his impression of a pig, (It involved oinking and dancing, you had to be there.) Z held out his arms.

“Mama, Papa, hug?”

And we had a family hug. The Three Musketeers.