A good friend of ours came into town this week to run the marathon; he’d originally been scheduled to run the New York marathon, which was canceled at the last minute due to Hurricane Sandy. He’d been one of our really good friends in New York, so we were thrilled to have any excuse to see him.

Now, I am not a runner. At ALL. I have several friends who run, and I truly don’t get it. But I hear that it’s lovely if you can withstand the pain and there’s nothing quite like a marathon. I’ve also heard that having a cheering squad is invaluable along the way; having friends to scream and jump and encourage you along the route makes you feel a bit less alone, a bit less like giving up.

So I hear.

Maddie is usually the most difficult member of the household to wake up. On school days Cora and I end up in Maddie’s room, snuggled in her bed for a few moments before we get up and get moving. Once Cora’s up she’s up and moving and she’ll be dressed and downstairs in two minutes; Maddie takes exponentially longer and will often come sliding into her seat with sixty seconds to gulp down oatmeal before we leave.

Sometimes, though, she wakes up for whatever reason, and occasionally she’s startled me when I’m downstairs thinking I’m the only one in the house awake; I’ll be doing my devotional or packing lunches and Maddie will pad silently up to me, fully clothed and smiling with pride. These are the mornings I live for.

Yesterday was such a morning.

Yes, Daddy is home.

And all is right with the world.

Although Cora said something disrespectful and snappy at bedtime last night after we'd brought Daddy home from the airport, and I corrected her, and she said with a sniff, "Well, I AM still sad that Daddy left, you know . . ."

Yeah, that won't fly any more, kid.

My family has been incredibly fortunate in that Brian’s job requires almost zero travel for work; in addition, he works less than two miles from our house and so is often home for lunch, can have lunch with the girls at school, and can slip out of work to see a school play or something.

In short, the girls see their daddy a LOT. And are quite used to it.

So when Brian told the girls he had to make a three-day trip this week, they seemed unfazed at the announcement. But in retrospect, I think they simply didn’t understand. He traveled once (ONCE!) last year and we survived pretty well, so I figured we’d have a few “I miss Daddy!” at bedtime but would otherwise soldier on. Brian gave each girl a hug and kiss Monday morning and sent them off to school, not to be seen again until LATE tonight.

When I picked Cora up after school Monday, she seemed distracted and out of sorts. I began questioning her gently, trying to see what went wrong with her day, but everything sounded like it went “great” or was “a lot of fun”. Finally, Cora turned to me impatiently.

“If you’re wondering why I’m having a hard time,” she said astutely, “it’s because I really thought I’d see Daddy one more time! I really need to give him one last snuggle!”

And she burst into tears.