Write about: denial.
Max spent the day with Kat's mom and Natalie while Kat and I went up to Penticton for a midwife appointment. Probably the quickest one yet, thanks to us having hardly any questions. Heard the baby's heartbeat and were on our way.
We also took the opportunity to do a bit of shopping and to go out for lunch. Neither of us had much energy, thanks to Kat's lingering cold and my new minor cold, but it was still a nice outing.
Snow fell heavily that night, blanketing the ground around the house with a white so pure it could have been Earth's wedding dress. He stood at the living room window, an empty glass in his hand, and watched the drifts grow higher and higher.
When dawn broke all that had changed was that he had brought a chair to the window to sit in. The glass was still empty, his eyes were still focused on the snow. Sleep had not deprived him of a moment of the storm's progress.
Although it is entirely likely he was not aware that it was snowing at all.
His thoughts, you see, were far away. His focus, unwavering as it was, did not lay on the weather. Not how it might affect his day, nor his work, not even his car, which was by then barely visible in the driveway. No, his mind belonged to not a what, but a who.
And that who was a she.
And that she... was not coming back.
No matter how long he might wait.