Never Again

I'm waking up again to another sunrise. And you're not here. I get up, and it's the same old routine. Start the coffee, get the paper, turn on the radio- it's always the same. I get the cereal down, it won't be long until the kids get up. You'd think that I would be too busy to notice that you're gone, but I'm not. It's been over four days now, and I haven't heard from you. And I miss you, the kids miss you. I hear the pounding of feet on the stairs. Time to start the day. Two boys and a girl. I can already hear them arguing over the bathroom. They always seem to forget that we have three. Ah, the joys of parenthood. But of course you wouldn't know that. The missed birthdays, the Christmases. And all because you have a duty to your country, as your father had before you. I hardly sleep at night when you're gone. I'm always awake, waiting.Waiting for the knock of the government. I dread the day that I hear the words "there was a training accident"...and I'll know that there was no training accident, but I won't let on that I know. It's so much simpler to not ask questions when there can never be any answers. And the kids come downstaires. Ten minutes late as usual. There's a rush, as they gobble down breakfast and head out the door for the bus.I wave goodbye and turn around, only to notice the new dishes in the sink and the brown paper bags that contains their lunches. They forgot them again. Looks like I'll be taking a detour to the school as I'm out and about. all of a sudden, I hear a noise at the door. Thinking that they had missed the bus-and not for the first time-I turn around.Only to see the most beautiful sight I have ever seen. You. I stand there for a moment, processing, wondering if is really you. Then you drop your bag and hold out your arms to me. And I run straight into them. You're home. Just when I thought that I was going crazy with missing you, you are home. I stay there fot a time, drinking in your smell, the feel of your arms around me. I tilt my head up, waiting. And you never dissapoint. I tell myself that you're here to stay, that you'll never leave again, though I know you will. But it's still the same...never again.