I’ve purposefully forgotten what it’s like to stare at the map and miss another.
What it’s like to fall asleep in bed by yourself.
Most days we pretend it didn’t happen.
But then the other day I found myself sorting through the pictures and letters as I rearranged boxes in the spare room.
The pictures bring back the anticipations of being together again. The letters…how little we knew each other and how completely in love! Some screenshots of messages that he sent me after parcels were delivered…a few birthday cards and a whole book of wish-dreams written in black ink.
There was an anxious and awkward sweetness to that year and a half, but on the other side I find I’m not mourning the beauty left there.
Instead, the beauty is in coming through. Through the first kiss and missing-you blues, the wedding planning and honeymoon squabbles. And that time you came to your parent’s, just so we could spend Christmas Eve together.
It’s in coming through it all and every day learning the other person a little bit better.
When I think on not so long ago – those long-distance-days…I’m filled with nostalgia. and then with gratitude that they even were. They are what they should be and where they belong.
And count the blessings of these days you’re in now. They’ll be the good old days sometime soon.