Monday, January 24, 2005

I Don't Miss The Hours

While waiting in line for food today, a very nice lady asked me "do you miss it?" "It" being television. I told her, "I don't miss the hours."

On occasion, I do miss the front row seat, the storytelling and the sense of accomplishment at the end of the day. But here's the thing:

Every day, when I come home from work, I go through the garage and into the kitchen, and no matter where he is in the house, an amazing little boy hears the door shut and he screams “Daddy!” I hear his little foot steps in a full out sprint to greet me in person. Before he even turns the corner into the kitchen, I hear another little voice. It belongs to my sweet little girl and she screams “Daddy!” and you can hear her footsteps, not as fast, but just as determined. And they run towards me, as if I’ve been gone on a trip for weeks, but really it’s only been since that morning. And I get hugs and kisses from two people whose love is unconditional... who don’t care what daddy does, just that he’s home. And every night I get to tuck them into bed and tell them good night and hear it back in these quiet, tired little voices. It melts my heart.

These are things I couldn't do if I didn't get home until 11. And these are the things I am determined not to miss.

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