Its been 2 days since Owen left. And not having him in my house is like a feeling for my phantom limb. I had no idea how much this would affect me until yesterday when I broke down at work and cried for 20 minutes. A rarity for me. I just don't cry at work...I save my tears for my couch in my dimly lit living room and a tub of frosting.
I spoke with my boss at the shelter about it, and apparently crying at the shelter is as normal as punching the time clock. I joked with her that this whole 'fostering thing' was the shelters way of hazing new employees. Which I believe is to be partly true.
But in all honesty, I hope Owen is doing well...I miss his little pain in the ass self.
The Least I Can Do
1 week ago