I stood at the window.
It was still light out but it was finding it’s way out of the day.
He pulled up. Slowly, he got out of the car.
I watched while he worked the stiffness out of his legs and stepped away from the car.
I saw his whitened hair and the stubble on his face.
His hair is tossed and standing up and laying down.
He appeared tired. My heart went through the window and encircled him.
I stepped to the door to open it, expecting him to be weary and worn.
As he took those three steps up, to stand on the deck, I opened that door.
He looked up. And smiled.
No weariness to see.
I said “hello! how was your day?”
And he, no matter how it was, said “great, I had a good day!”
Because he’s home.
And that’s what matters in a day.