His lips brushed against mine

and I awoke abruptly.  He was leaning over me in his crisp white shirt, his suit coat hanging over his arm.  "It will be alright" he whispered so as not to wake the kids.  He moved in and kissed me again, the smell of toothpaste and shaving cream lingering afterwards.  With that he was gone.  I looked towards the clock at the opposite end of the room and waited for the numbers to come into focus.  Five fifteen.  I put my pillow over my head and tried to return to my dream in the diner.  

I had been sitting alone at a table waiting for someone to join me.  The morning sun was shining through the window, it's warmth on my face.  I was cutting hearts out of folded up newspaper and drinking juice.  It was comfortable there.

I couldn't clear my mind enough to return.  My eyes were puffy and painful from crying myself to sleep the night before.  I hate it when I cry just before bed.  And then I remembered the house.  Not one single solitary room was clean.  The ironing board was still standing in the kitchen and princess dresses where strewn with reckless abandon.  And then there's field day and 27 first graders and primary interviews and getting ready for the trip . . .

"The Lord will shape the back to fit the burden placed upon it."  That's what President Monson says.  And then President Uchtdorf's words come to me, "life is not a sprint, it's a race of endurance."  

So I remove my pillow and head to the shower.  I think I'll put on an extra layer of my new Secret "Coco butter kiss" Deodorant for the race, the race of endurance.