unwanted traffic

We live on a pretty quiet street. This morning I was wishing we lived at the end of a dead end road with no neighbors within earshot because a brief episode of anxiety left me with a racing heart, certain that each vehicle I heard drive by was going to stop in our driveway to deliver dreaded news. I got on the computer to try and distract myself and got an email from Michael. He hasn't been able to email much, but the timing couldn't have been better.

Hannah still seems fine. She's not acting out. She isn't expressing any sadness. She's very matter of fact about it. Papa is in Iraq to help people and he'll be back around Easter (which is after Nora's birthday, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Papa & Momma's birthdays). I wonder if there will be a change as the days turn into weeks and she starts to really miss him.

Nora, on the other hand, notices that things are different. She had several evenings of very unusual fussiness after he left. She loves to look at Papa's pictures on the fridge. Every time we go by them she points and says, "Papa, Papa, Papa, Papa!" She's pronouncing the "p" now, too, which she hadn't quite managed before. She enjoys holding the laminated picture and "hugging" it.

I don't think this is dark enough to be called gallows humor: