I don’t remember exactly when it started, but those words “see you in June” have become laughably dear to me.
I imagine they were first spoken in the very early dim of our kitchen as I fumbled around trying to get everything ready for another school day. Which kitchen in which house in which city, I’ve lost track of. We’re a coaching family and we lead somewhat migrant lives.
It translates into my husband telling me: “I know coaching is taking all of my time now, but June will be here before you know it. And when school is out, I’ll make up for all of that lost time and be an extra set of hands for the kids.”
I imagine it started with a nauseatingly early exchange, Coach having hit the hay following his away game just a few hours ago. I imagine he was charging through the kitchen as usual- making a beeline for the door. Gasp! It’s already 6:00?
An aside: if you’ll humor me while I jump up on my soapbox regarding gender equality and morning routines. I’m pretty jealous that men do that- wake up, throw on the top and pants, brush the teeth, and hop in the car in 12 minutes flat. Ladies, first, I need my beauty sleep! Second, heck, let’s be honest. I just don’t like the way any of my clothes fit after boy #3, so even though I was sufficiently organized last night and set out my outfit for the day, I’m going to change clothes approximately 3.5 more times before I’m willing to concede and leave my bathroom.
But I digress…
That morning, I must’ve given Brad a fairly helpless look as he started to jet by me. There I am surrounded with half-made lunches, backpacks and diaper bags splayed all over the table, too frequently glancing at the microwave to check the time. I’m sure I dropped the lame, loaded bomb: “You’re leaving already?”
He glanced at me with his lop-sided smirk. “See you in June.”
It was more of a question really.