She doesn't stand on the sidewalk with her head tilted towards the stars, just hoping to find a moment of peace. She doesn't shift her weight to one side and watch the the lone car drift around the curve with its headlights whirling past her, and wish she were in that car, wherever it was going.
She doesn't feel the tears stinging on her cheeks as she hears the baby crying yet again, unable to be soothed and doubtless missing her daddy.
And she isn't fine for days until one night breaks her apart, one simple night in two measly weeks spent apart.
I'm not great at this. It should be easy. And it should be so much easier by now.