Last night I met my friend Victoria to celebrate her new job.  We commiserated about the elusive work/life balance, motherhood, bosses, sacrifices and other trivial gossip.  We munched on appetizers and dinner, drank flowing wine and took a few bites of two disappointing desserts that descriptions sounded better than they actually tasted.  At nine p.m. I noted a call from home but chose to ignore it as I enjoyed my few hours of freedom. 

I arrived home at 10 p.m. weary from so much talking and laughing.  It was a good weary…a satisfied weary.  I immediately heard my ten-year old stomp down the stairs in record time.  She launched herself to my chest with a thud as tears streamed down her cheeks. 

I asked, “What’s wrong?”  

She tearfully replied, “You were gone so long!”

It is great to feel missed and needed but I had left at six p.m. with the meal prepared, homework completed and piano practiced.  Four hours away.  I rarely , and I mean rarely, go out by myself.  Yet, for my daughter the hours seemed indefinite.  And no matter how overdue I felt my reprieve was, it quickly came to an end with three little words, “I missed you”.  Ah, the joy and duty of motherhood.