Kim Gullion Stewart

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missing my man [or my man is missing.]

He left on Friday at 6:30am with 2 other guys, the snow roaring up behind the truck in an indignant cloud as they peeled out of our driveway. He has been planning this trip for months. He grew a beard, he shopped for pepperoni sticks, he organized his gear for 3 days straight. I watched him pack with nervous anticipation.... {It is winter here. The temperature averages between -9 and -18 celsius. This house is heated by a wood furnace. The wood furnace requires large amounts of wood because it is old; 25 years old. The wood must be hauled and split every day. We often get heavy snowfalls, so heavy that we cannot get out of our driveway. As you read in my previous posting, sometimes we are without power, phone, or water. In the spring, we flood. It is a gamble every time my man leaves. Sometimes nothing happens, sometimes it is like the apocalypse. Does he know how much he means to this home and this family? Not only is he my best friend and my only love, he is the glue that holds this place together.}

...I followed him down the stairs and gave him a hug and a kiss. Have a good time, I told him. Try not to worry about us, I say. He needs a break. He will come home refreshed. The kids and I will manage, we always do.