We are counting hours, now. Minutes and seconds, even. There will be cookie baking and banner making tonight. There will be favorite food grocery-shopping. I will graciously scootch all of my clothes over to one side of the closet and leave at least one foot of linear space available for the three pieces of clothing he is bringing home.
But there will not be sleeping. No, there will not be sleeping between now and tomorrow morning when we race from the American Legion to the soccer field to the car to the airport to him.
And there might not even be breathing. But I’ll try.