The "Hunting Widow" Speaks

I've been washing clothes one load at a time all week and tonight I finally made it to the bottom of the laundry basket when a sad realization came to me, there weren't any of Olen's clothes left in the basket.

Olen left to go elk hunting on September 9th (that's about fourteen days ago, but who's counting). I got a kiss and a hug and a "Wish me good luck!", then he was gone. I didn't wish him good luck though. I pouted and wished he would come back. He was so giddy that day he left. It was annoying and endearing. He kept saying, "Who knows? I could get the next record bull and be on the cover of a magazine!" I said on that same magazine cover the kids should get the bottom fourth with a little caption that reads: "Have you seen us lately?" This got me a big squeeze and reassurance that he'd find his trophy bull on opening day. Opening day was thirteen days ago.

I've never felt so required in all my life as I have these past two weeks. My day doesn't end till the last little eyelid closes. I could actually say that's when my day begins. Something about the way my brain was stitched together makes me need to be busy. It's a very bad habit. I wish I could just quit being busy and try doing nothing, but it's hard to stop once you're going. After I tucked the kids into bed these past weeks I would escape to my drawing pad and doodle pictures of rabbits and ladybugs and monsters. Then I would cut my pictures out and think about what fabric my new friends would wear and I would sew them to their new home on the front of a children's onesie. I did this every night until my sewing table started to look like an acceptable place to spend the night.

The first few mornings were rough because Olen is the morning bird to my night owl and without him to start the day for me, the day didn't seem worth starting. On the second morning after Olen left, I smelled something burning. This got me up. I followed the smell to the kitchen and found Porter making me pancakes for breakfast. He made me a letter M too large to flip with just one spatula so he was using two. He said he promised dad that he would be the man of the house until he got back so he wanted to take care of breakfast. After that, getting up the first time the alarm went off was a little easier.

Tomorrow at sundown is the last day of Olen's hunt. So far the trophy elk have found one better hiding place than Olen has looked. I reminded him we will still welcome him home with or without a trophy. There's still one more day left, and it's been done before, so maybe tomorrow will be his lucky day.

I wish him good luck now. Not because the odds are against him, but because I should have done it from the start. The sooner he gets what he set out for, the sooner he will be on the road back to me. Even if it buys me only a few hours before sundown tomorrow, I wish him all the luck in the world. I hope he finds the largest, most elusive bull elk in unit 9 then comes swiftly home. Whiskers, shaggy hair and all.

Do you know what my second realization was when I reached the bottom of that laundry basket? Olen's been gone for fourteen days but I only packed him five pairs of underwear.

"Man of the House"