Can you tell I’m happy?  Today, Sylvia returns from Honduras!

Photo by Chuck

Yesterday, I had lunch with our son, Bryant.  He told me that Sylvia had left a message for Briana (granddaughter) on her Facebook page.  She had also said that if I had a Facebook account she would have left a message for me.  What’s a guy to do?

As I write this, Sylvia should be with the team checking into the airport in San Pedro Sula.  From there, they will fly to Atlanta and then on to Detroit.  I expect her to arrive home about 2:30 or 3:00 AM.

Also as I write this, Midnight is stretched out on a sunny corner of my desk.  Looks like he’s checking his eyelids for leaks.  I know he’ll be happy to see her.  I’m going to let it be a surprise.  After all what’s a guy to do?

I’m trying to decide how much to clean up around here.  This may seem to be a small thing, but think about it.  If she returns to a spotless house, won’t it say that I can get along without her?  That’s not really true!  If I do nothing and she finds dirty floors and dirty dishes in the sink, won’t that say I’m a slob.  What’s a guy to do?

Two years ago, she had a longer stay in Honduras.  I described her day of return as follows:

Chuck has kept busy all day, and after a quick surfing trip across the blogosphere, he goes to bed early. Remember, the plan is to be there for Sylvia when she arrives to greet her and to talk with her.

In Detroit Sylvia retrieves her bags and meets the friends that will drive her [home] . . . It is nearly 3 AM as she quietly enters the house. She walks on tip-toes into the bedroom. It has been a long day. She is tired.

I (Chuck) am sleeping on my side facing the door. I open one eye and say, “Oh, it’s you.” (I can be so clever at that time of day.)

She replies, “Who else would it be?” (Two can play that game.)

I hear her briefly at the bathroom sink and then I feel her lay down on the opposite side of the king-sized bed.

She sighs, “Aaahh . . . This feels good.” Soon she is breathing regularly. Sound asleep.

I start to count her breaths, one, two . . .

The sun came up.

 Tonight I will have another chance.  Perhaps I can do better this time?  Or maybe not . . .  What’s a guy to do?