It's baking day once again; the smell of bread is filling my house and making me feel oddly relaxed. It takes me back to childhood serenity and a time of no worries. Mama's here, knitting on the sofa. I'm here, sitting by the window. The KittyCat is napping in her crib. All is well in Paradise this morning. But...

That's the real problem, isn't it? This afternoon I'm not going to get a call from my Sailor to pick him up at the pier. Tonight we're not going to order a pizza and sit together watching DVDs. He's not going to drink a 6pack of beer and get silly and tell me how much he loves The Mary. Tonight I'm going to comb out my hair and crawl between cold blankets and sleep alone again. I'm used to it. Many times I even look forward to it. This afternoon it's making me a bit morose.