There was no earthquake. Or if there was, it was not that big of one. Or jelly bean, or cheesecake. There was definitely no boom. Or if there was, I did not hear it. Hell, I don't even know if there is anyone out there to read this.
I woke up this morning, my son was asleep by my side, but that was it. I remember last night, he stirred and I made a wise crack about his mother and the apocalypse. Now I am wishing I had not.
The clock, running on batteries mind you, was flashing 5:30 when I woke up. He was still asleep. My wife was not next to me, she wasn't in the bathroom, or the living room. There was no coffee brewed, no breakfast ready, not that there was regularly mind you. Well, there was always coffee. We loved that stuff. When we first were dating, we lived on it, coffee and love. We sure weren't getting any sleep. And now she's gone. I think. Her phone keeps going to voice mail, but it never rings, so it I'm not sure what's going on.
The monitor for my son is on, he's asleep, at least according to the snoring. I've checked on him about a dozen times in the past forty minutes. He's still asleep. I just checked again. The front door does not squeak as I open it, of course, I've oiled it so many times in the last few years that I'd be offended if it did. The streetlight outside is no longer on, and none of the lights in the nearby houses, at least through the visible windows, are either. I hear my son though, so I return to the bedroom, hold him tight.
"Hey little man," I say, hugging him to me.
"Nurse!" He says, his voice frantic. "Nurse," he repeats again as I search for a response.
"I'm sorry guy, would you like some grapes?"
He smiles, "Grapes," he says, making for the kitchen. Soon, I will no longer be able to distract him. Soon I will need to find his mother. My wife.