“What do you usually set the thermostat to?” I texted him.

My husband was away on a fishing trip this weekend and silly ole me was asking the same silly ole question I do every time he leaves town.

Because the thing is, I never have to worry about it. He takes care of it for me. Every single night.

And as much as I like to think that I’m the one who keeps this house running most of the time, the truth is, it’s not.

It’s him.
He’s the glue holding us all together.

He’s the one taking the trash to the curb and bringing in the mail.
He’s the one mowing the lawn and stopping by the store for milk.
He’s the one changing the air filter and swapping out the batteries in the smoke detectors and starting the diffuser before bed.

He’s the one setting the thermostat.

The one who makes me feel safe and secure.
The one who keeps me going.
The one who holds my heart.

And I’m so thankful that he is…

The one who’s so dang hard to say goodbye to,
And the one who’s so dang easy to miss.

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