An Essay On Quaker Oatmeal Squares

I've done a little math tonight.

For me to put those words together in a sentence, it had to be for a reason relating to what I call real life.

So, this real life scenario is one in which my husband travels.
I'm not good at being alone, and when the house is empty I find myself at home staring at the box of Quaker Oatmeal Squares and wondering if I have the motivation in me to collect the necessary bowl and spoon and pour the milk.

Back to the math.

I need to figure out just how often it is that I am to be faced with this angle, and how many boxes of Oatmeal Squares I need.

52 weeks in a year.  Relatively 5 of them, husband is on vacation.

44 weeks, he is at work about 3 minutes from our front door.

That leaves the computation of 2-3 weeks of the year he's traveling.

From the time I was a little girl, I remember my momma telling me something she learned from a little old lady in town.

An adage passed from one woman to another, then passed from a momma in a small town to a little girl who would grow up to live in a big city.

A wise adage for any wife, anywhere, it seems.

I don't remember the detailed arrangement of the words belonging to the adage, but I remember my momma's smile when she told me something like this,

"When your husband has to be away, instead of being sad, try to use the time to enjoy doing things you usually don't get to do when he's home."

Like take a two hour bubble bath at 5pm, like stay up reading until two in the morning, like eat a cupcake for dinner.

So while Neal's away and I lose my keys, run late to work, and forget how to start the coffee because he always does it, I manage to remember the adage from the little old lady in town.

So far I've met a friend for coffee, bought a bottle of perfume, walked to Sprinkles and whispered the code for the free cupcake, stayed late at a friend's watching a movie on a work night, and started a book that everyone keeps telling me is a "me" kind of book.

A few chapters into said book, and I've found it to be a poetic symphony of words whose melody hits the notes of the questions, 

"Where is joy in the midst of cruelty and chaos, duties and despair?

How does one slow down enough for the soul and God to live in sync?

How in the world do we learn to find God and live fully?"

Oh, indeed, friends.  You knew.  It had me at hello.

I'll probably need a bowl of Quaker Oatmeal Squares in bed at two in the morning while I'm reading. 

And I can't wait for husband to come home.