Weekend in the West
We drove around looking for a Tim's to get fiancé a much-needed coffee. Even though he'd been there for three months, he never was much good at directions and bearings. I was so glad to see him after so long, I hardly looked from his face to notice street signs and building names in the cold prairie city.
I was lucky enough to spend Easter weekend in the west with him. At the mid point of his absence, it was a wonderful way to divide his time away from the time left until he returns to me. It lasted four nights, went by much too quickly,and left me feeling so empty I didn't think I'd ever stop crying or get out of bed. I was doing quite well before this trip, coasting along on phone calls and emails, I suppose because I knew I'd be seeing him soon. It helped me forget how much I missed rubbing his back and nuzzling my head into his shoulder, tickling his face with my hair.
My nervous system was quite pleased to return to the comfort and familiarity of his skin's touch, and stubbly cheeks. My own cheeks appreciated the workout of constantly smiling and my arms were glad to finally have someone to wrap around whenever they so pleased. My brain got its fix of him; my addiction to his love fed after a painful withdrawal and anticipated return.
We became gluttons, soaking in as many kisses and squeezes and we could devour. Literally as well, we ate so much food I felt ready to burst more than twice. We smiled and held hands and let our shoulders touch when we stood side-by side. I had missed continuous touch. We giggled and joked and he told me how glad he was to feel like a goofy kid again. We snuggled and nuzzled and I told him I was glad to have someone I could sit beside for hours without talking to and feel happier than if I had solved world conflict. Nothing else mattered but how nice it felt to have his fingers rub my back, while I reciprocated down his shoulders.
We did nothing to write home about; we watched movies, ate comfort food and sat in the hot tub until we were lobster-red prunes. Looking at him looking at me and sealing it with a kiss felt so much better than any adventure that I otherwise chalk up as seizing the day in a new adventure. This was perfection, silence, peace, calm and warmth.
Like gravity, we came back down to earth in separate cabs, mine to the airport, his back to the training academy. He left first, and I sat in my hotel room bawling, snotting even and feeling so heavy I only got up to get more Kleenex. I wrote him a note on hotel stationary (yes, it seems people do use it, though hopefully not all in situations like my own). I tried so hard to ignore my feelings, so I could at least get some sleep and return to sadness the next day, behind the camouflage of my sunglasses and the anonymity of being an airplane passenger.
I return to living by my cell phone awaiting his sporadic calls, and embracing the hollowed out feeling inside me. I embrace it because as low and heavy as I feel now, it was worth it and I'd do it a thousand times over to have another weekend like Easter with him. Knowing that at the end awaits our cross-country adventure together makes me feel like the luckiest girl in the world!
I'll keep you all posted on where we're going, when, and what that all means as soon as I know too!