It’s quarter to eleven and I’m feeding the baby. Her room is dark except for the dim lamp and quiet except for the rain sound machine. As I rock her I sit here thinking about you. I have a husband asleep in my bed. Oblivious to the jobs of parents. Homework was done, lacrosse and volleyball practices attended, dinner made and baths given. Laundry folded and put away. Counters wiped down as kids packed their backpacks for the next day. Reading was done and birthday love was given all as he just slept. You see he is in pain again and on more pills I assume and has missed another day. So last but not least I rock my tiny 5mo old to sleep crying alone. I’m so tired of doing it by myself. It’s not that I can’t and it sounds so selfish. I just want something to look forward to when the kids are in bed. That quiet alone time with a partner, the one you adore. I haven’t had that for years, 7 at least. So I rock her. Thinking of you. Wondering if your night was good. Wondering if you had help. Or wondering if you did it all alone too. Wondering if you’re doing the last minute things before bed and thinking of me. Wondering why we stay or why we try. I just don’t know anymore. I hope you’re sleeping. After all it’s 11pm and when tomorrow comes we get to do it all over again. Goodnight babe, I wonder if the moon is breathtaking tonight? I haven’t looked in awhile.