In between asleep and awake this morning, I heard a knocking at my front door. I dismissed it as way too early to get up, but felt my heart stop all together when I heard the locked door opening. A thousand faces of possibility flashed through my brain; some welcomed, some not.

But then I heard a very specific chime of keys, half assed cough, and destination of walk, and I knew it was him. I forgot to remember his speechless sound until it was loud as hell and waking me up out of bed to my feet.

My heart was racing because he had no reason and no right to be here, and at that moment, I realized that the only unwelcome guests in my house were the ants eating the cheerios that didn’t quite make it into Cam’s mouth.

I'm amazed at how well we can know someone. Their expressions, tone of voice, skin, mannerisms, all of it in one big, eventually predictable, package. And it’s the elements we don’t know that we know, that invade our sleep ‘til it ceases, whether we’re aware or not.

The irritation of not being able to fall back asleep was heavily outweighed by the relief that he was somewhere other than here, and that I didn’t care where that was.