It's only been six hours. I hugged her, kissed her, kissed the kids, hugged her again, and said goodbye. I waved as they backed out of the driveway and drove up the road, right up until they turned onto the next road, passed the house on the corner and out of my view.

I've done a load of dishes. Read Jeremiah. Loaded about twenty items onto eBay that I needed to sell. And caught up on about eight or nine messages from Sproul.

I can't believe how much I miss her.

I'm away from her for ten hours everyday. It's only been six so far today. But, by now, I'm usually counting the minutes for 4:30. Then a 35- or 40-minute drive home. Then I'm with her all night. But not tonight. I've got twelve days, twenty-two hours, and fifty-two minutes to go without her. This isn't going to be easy.

Make that twelve days, twenty-two hours, fifty-one minutes, and counting...