Not that he wasn't missed. But something was different this year.This year I actually got a little c-o-o-p-e-r-a-t-i-o-n from the troops. . And I'm not used to that. Dishes were washed, garbage carried out, snow was shoveled, and shoveled and shoveled again. All without begging, pleading, threatening or bribing (..."How much is this task worth ... two bits? A buck? Two bucks?"). It was a bit like (dare I say it) co-habitating with other adults.
Which is not to say I only value the Old Guy for his ability to wield a grill brush over the BBQ in the middle of winter, or his ability to remember which day the recycle bin goes out. That is not true.
I missed our witty morning repartee, our weekend rounds to the grocer, the butcher. Our evenings over a brew-ski lamenting about our day and relaying the latest and greatest goofball story heard on the radio or read in the paper. The novelty of having the "whole bed to myself " wears pretty thin pretty quick. But most of all I missed him. All of him.
Welcome home Old Guy - we missed you.