My husband recently started a new job that requires some traveling. We're lucky in that none of the trips are horribly long--the longest has been a week--but it's been an adjustment for the kids and I, since we've been used to having him home every single night.

When he does have to be away, it's sometimes hard to figure out how much I should dwell on the fact that he's gone. I don't want to talk about him incessantly to the kids, because I don't want to make it into a bigger deal than it is, or focus on the sadness of missing him. At the same time, I don't want to ignore their feelings either. But young as they are, it's sometimes easy to tell myself that they probably don't notice things as much anyway.

And then they remind me that just because they can't articulate their feelings doesn't mean they aren't there.

Tonight, setting the table, Lucy got forks out of the drawer and then placed one next to each plate I had set out. One for me, one for Beth, one for Lucy, even a little plastic one for Evie. She wound up with one grown-up-size fork left in her hand.

"Where's Daddy's plate?" she said.

"Daddy's on a business trip, remember?" I said. "He'll be home tomorrow."

She set the extra fork down on the table. "You don't move this fork, Mama. Don't move it! Not even at night time."

"You want me to leave it till Daddy comes home?" I ask.

"It's for him, Mama. You don't move it," she said firmly.

And there it sits.