One week till widowhood.

We are now a week away from the Caps first home preseason game. That's a week away from becoming an official hockey widow from now till the end of the season. A week away until my husband will be spending more time in men's locker rooms, with barely clad players-ok I realize this sounds horrible. But I assure you its only to interview. Or so I am told. A week away until names like Bret, Vogs, Ovi and Laich are once again staples at the not so frequent dinning room table of ours. Names, that are so familiar to me they are practically family.

Now I could for selfish reasons say, the season is way to long as it is and I want my husband back sooner rather than later. As much as people turn to us and say 'how awesome' that job is, how amazing it must be to work for them. At the same time, they don't see the long hours he often puts in, away from home. Away from me, and my son. Granted the reward and all is pretty sweet but coming from a wife married into the organizations during hockey season, weekends aren't weekends anymore. Evenings aren't either for that matter. Planning takes a hell of a lot more effort than it does during the off season. Our lives revolve around the hockey schedule during these months. The good, the bad, or the ugly. We live it all. And time together turns into minutes together.

However the Caps fan in me is saying, its a small sacrifice to make and by all means you can have him for as long as it takes, preferably until June. Because after last season's heartache, I expect nothing less. Nor do I for myself, the organization or the fans want anything less. I don't want to deal with the mood swings it brought on from one very unhappy husband. I don't want to deal with the ache, the void that it left me ever again. And I expect, neither does the team.

No I don't expect every game to be won, or every battle to be easy. After all, there are 82 games, the odds of winning them all are about as likely as my chance of having a private conversation with the President himself. Not to mention we have 29 other teams who I am pretty sure want it just as much as we do. And as we learned last year, the regular season does not mean. Much. When all is said in done, as long as you come home with a shiny silver cup, then that's good enough for me.

So by all means, do whatever it takes to play till June, even if that means I won't exactly speak more than a sentence to my husband for the next several months.

In the end, it will all be worth it.