Together Again

Leaving the ware house, at about 11:45pm, off to see my wife for the first time in a week. Interstate 95 is clear, except a smattering of late night traffic. Our dog Sable sits in the front seat of a blue moving van, panting along to the music keeping me awake as we hum along highway expecting our reunion. Draining the cup of coffee, nature's wake up juice, I know in an hour we will be together again. Picking her up at my High School teammate's house, she quickly presses her lips against mine. Bangor is gone, a part of the past now, somewhere we used to live. Now it is the Boston area and while we haven't even moved into our place yet, it already feels like home.