I spontaneously took a day off to clean the attic, but then my husband came home early. He had no idea I was there. When I heard him speaking to someone through our bedroom door, I learned something about my husband that was worse than cheating.
If you had asked me last Monday how my life was going, I would have given you the standard “tired but happy” routine.
But everything fell apart the day I randomly took a day off work to clean the attic.
Every time I took something up there, I’d scan the boxes and tell myself I’d clean up and organize everything that weekend.
Five years’ worth of weekends had come and gone, and I’d decided I couldn’t put it off any longer.
The kids, Emma and Caleb, were safe at my mom’s for a sleepover.
My husband, Grant, was locked into a marathon of corporate meetings. At least, that was the schedule on the fridge.
The house felt oversized without the sound of sneakers hitting the hardwood or the constant hum of the television.
I climbed the pull-down ladder into the attic. It smelled like aging cardboard and dry heat. I started dragging boxes toward the center of the room.
There were boxes labeled “COLLEGE,” “XMAS,” and my personal favorite, “DON’T OPEN.”
Naturally, I opened the Christmas box first.
I’m a sucker for the holidays, even in the middle of a random Tuesday.
Right near the top, nestled under a chaotic web of green tangled lights, was a clay star.
Emma’s first ornament!
I ran my thumb over the rough edges. I could see that night so clearly.
Emma was three, her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth in total concentration.
“Careful,” I’d told her, reaching out to steady her wrist before she smeared the wet gold paint.
Grant had been sitting at the kitchen table with us.
“Babe, look,” I’d said, nudging him. “She made it herself.”
He glanced our way and gave a quick smile.
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