Traces of Mark

Muddy wellies in the hall, freshly laundered shirts, shampoo in the bathroom, bills through the post – every day a little something to remind me of the space Mark usually fills in this house. 

The last time Mark deployed our lives weren’t quite so intrinsically linked and so I’m finding these little husband momentos all over the place a bit surreal.  

I suspect that these early days will be the strangest this time round; life is continuing as it should and his absence hasn’t really begun to be felt.  But, unlike with normal training exercises, there’s an undercurrent to everything that whispers “seven months apart…seven months apart…” like a broken record in my head. 

For his part, little trouble monkey Alby is doing his best to keep Mark’s presence alive in this house.  Over the past two days he has discovered that he has a nose – a fact he is celebrating by sticking his finger into it.   Clearly the apple hasn’t fallen too far from the tree in regard to this particularly charming habit.

No polite pointing of the nose for my son.  Oh no.  He has long used his little index finger to go exploring for him, poking it into the plug hole, my ears, bottle tops, electrical sockets…  This graduation to the nostrils I should have seen coming.  As I should have his response when I say “no Alby, that’s dirty”: a look, a grin and a toss back of the head as he bursts into laughter.  Daddy’s boy indeed.