My husband, Brian, left for New Orleans early this morning, carrying two overstuffed bags. My son, Connor, and I, both sleepy and sad, waved goodbye in our pajamas as he drove away, shivering in the cold March air. After I shut the door, the house seemed uncustomarily quiet. Normally when Connor is awake, there's the sound of running, squealing, or cartoons to create a weekday morning ambience. Today, though, a somber Connor sat on the steps and cried. I found myself tearing up as I got dressed for work a few minutes later.

Now, some people feel a sense of relief when their spouse has departed on a trip. One spouse's business trip can be another spouse's mini-vacation. With the "ball and chain" gone, they feel free from the rigor and routine of marriage. Not me. I appreciate the routine. I don't have to think about the routine parts of my day. But, when there's hiccup in the routine, I'm forced to realize how much I rely on routine and how much comfort I take from it.

Sometimes we go about our lives with such numbness and thoughtlessness, it takes a noticeable change or absence to understand what our life would be without a routine, a habit, a job, or a loved one. In the quiet of this morning without the sounds of Brian and the routine, I felt empty. Sure, his trip is just for a few days, but how quickly his absence was felt! I missed him the moment he left.

Every aspect of my mornings, my routines, my life are connected to Brian. If there was any doubt in my mind that I loved him or needed him, those doubts have been erased. The concept of a life without my husband is unimaginable.

So, for the next three days, I will take care of the kids, cook, clean, shop, work, and wait for the return of my hubby. And look forward to the routine. Because there's nothing routine about spending time, even the most basic of moments, with those you love the most.