When Tim is home

When Tim is home, and I move the garbage can out from under the sink into the kitchen, I can come back a little while later and it will be empty and clean.

When Tim is away and I move the garbage can out from under the sink into the kitchen, a few hours later the kitchen smells like garbage. Oh. I have to take that out.

When Tim is home, the junk mail automatically gets filtered and shredded.

When Tim is away, the mail builds up in the box.

When Tim is home, he meets Jonathan on Mondays on the other side of town with a big bag full of skates and a snack, just before lessons. And hauls another big bag away immediately after.

When Tim is away, Jonathan hauls two big bags up the hill to school, then onto the bus and train, and off to skating lessons on his own. I show up to help haul at the very end.

When Tim is home, everybody gets two kisses at bedtime and gives two.

When Tim is away, I only get one and I only give one.

When Tim is home, a hot dinner awaits my return on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays.

When Tim is away, we pull out cold bread and leftovers those nights.

When Tim is home, the cupboards and the fridge magically fill up with food. We're never low on milk, and the fruit bowl has at least enough apples to make it through tomorrow night.

When Tim is away, we ration fruit. Don't eat the last apple or you don't get one for lunch tomorrow. I have to stop at Oakleigh on my way home on the train to pick up about twenty pounds of fruit. And then haul them up to our apartment in time to turn around and catch the end of the skating lesson. Tired.

When Tim is home, I go to bed on time.

When Tim is away ... it's late.