In the back of my mind, I hear the children crawl into their chairs and I know I have to open my eyes. So I do. I see them staring at me. “Mommy must be tired.”

“Yes, mommy is very tired.”

“Why?”

“I had a long day at work.”

“We played with kites today. Daddy took us to the park and we chased a dog that got the kite when it fell down.” I hate dogs. Well, maybe not hate, but there is an intense feeling of dislike.

“Oh? Did you get the kite from the dog?”

“Yes! But it had holes in it.”

“Do you need to fix the holes?”

“No. It still flew.”

“Well, that’s good.”

“We also played on the swings.”

I start cutting pieces off the chicken, listening to them babble about their day. I enjoy listening to them. Their innocence is refreshing. The way they explain things is so simple. I set bits of chicken on their plates and open the bag with the fries in it and grab a handful for each of them. I open the container with the spinach in it and use my own fork to give them each some.

They smile. “Julia got more fries than me!”

“Nuh uh! Did not!”

“If either of you want more, eat what’s on you plate first.”

I wait for my husband to sit. Eventually he comes from the kitchen trying to balance four glasses of milk in his hands. His hands are too small for this task and I think he is going to drop all of the plastic cups, but he doesn’t. I am some what amazed.

He sits down across from me and cuts some chicken for himself. I scoop some spinach for myself. I poke at it on my plate. I’m not really hungry. I should be, but the thought of eating makes me want to vomit. I pick a few small pieces of chicken off the bones and put them on my plate. I leave the fries be. I watch my husband pour some onto his plate from the bag. Grocery store food always comes in white bags. For some reason, the bags are always greasy by the time you get them home.

We eat. I don’t tell anyone about my day. I rarely do and they never ask. Mostly, I listen. I listen to them all talk about their days. Listening to children tell you adventures about chasing down their kite from a dog is almost like hearing a fairy tale. One of them always turns into the grand hero the other into the distressed. Today Julia is the heroine and Joshua is the distressed. Julia bravely fought the dog to retrieve the enchanted item of their desire. Every now and again my husband interjects with some tid bits of information about the adventure they all went on.
I pick at my food and just listen to them talk. I drift in and out of my own mind, but I still listen. When my children talk they get excited. They fidget in their chairs and bits of food fly from their forks as they wave them around.

Everything is horribly mundane at the dinner table without my children there.

“Mommy! Can we go to the park on Saturday? Can we?”

“Certainly. I’ll even make us a picnic if you want.”

“Yay! Picnic! Can we have chips and carrot sticks?” They look at me with those big eyes and I can’t help but agree.

“Of course. And maybe even some twinkies.”

“Twinkies!”

I smile to myself. They seem happy and that makes me happy. What would I ever do without them?

I look over to my husband. He is smiling and doesn’t even see me look at him. I wonder how much about me he doesn’t notice. I think sometimes he only sees what he wants to. Who knows.

We finish dinner and I clear the table. I throw away the paper plates. I love paper plates, especially when I feel lazy. I rinse the cups and put them in the dish washer. I find myself humming to myself. I don’t even know what the song is that I am humming. I just am.

My husband grabs me around the waist and nibbles on the nape of my neck. I squirm. I hate when he does that. It truly bothers me. I suppose most people like being kissed on the back of the neck. Or at least most women he was with before me. But I hate it. I truly hate it. It makes my skin crawl. But he always does it. He doesn’t notice my skin crawling or that I try to shrug him away from me. There are many things he doesn’t notice I think.

Give me strength.

I turn around and smile. I remember what song I am humming. It was something I heard at the end of a movie a while back. I find I love movies if they end with a good song. The song has to tie everything together. A movie that does that really grabs my attention. It is true craftsmanship.

I remember the words to the song I am humming. They start to run through my head as my husband kisses me.

“I’m wrapped in cellophane. I’m wrapped in cellophane. And it knows my name. And I try and I try and I try and I try. And he’s in and she’s in and he’s in. Finding how it feel when there’s nothing to say. I’m wrapped in cellophane.”

The song ends in my head and I am wrapped into my husband’s kiss. I do love him, despite the fact, or maybe because of the fact that he doesn’t notice much. My mind is blank for a moment and it is just he and I.

“The kids are in bed.” He kisses me.

“So early?”

“They got up early. They were tired. Why don’t we go to bed also.” He smirks and I hear the lilt in his voice. I know what that means. I am pleased.

We go to the bedroom and he undresses me. We make love. It’s pretty much the same as always, but I have no real complaints about that. He knows what I like for the most part. Just like I know what he likes.

It’s dark out now. He holds me. I hold him back. I am tired as well. I don’t really know why, but I am. I can’t sleep when people touch me, so I lay there, waiting for my chance to roll away.

He falls asleep soon enough and I roll away.

=====================
I drift off to sleep. Darkness falls around me and suddenly I am consumed by incredible loneliness. A strange longing that I have never felt before. A pain that is so real, I must be dreaming.

I’ve never felt anything so strong in real life.