I should be doing other work. I have things to accomplish. But I’m telling myself this is a “break,” which I suppose is when I get the best of my writing done anyways. It is almost an event of procrastination, in and of itself.
I miss him today. And there are a lot of days like this. I think about him. Today I was editing photos, and I keep finding ones of him, sandwiched between cool houses or delicious foods. That bright smile, those eyes, crinkled at the corners, every part of him just beaming from my screen. But he’s so far away.
I’ve already e-mailed, and texted, today. He’s out and about, doing the normal daily things he should do. It is good. I wish there was a way that I could do… something. I re-read old e-mails, smiling as I remember the emotions I felt or see through my thin attempts to not say certain things. Should I post one of these pictures of him on social media? But then, maybe people are sick of seeing him. They’re all well aware of my affections. Do I say something about counting down to our next encounter? But maybe that is something private, between the two of us and those who know me well. Do I brag (yet again) about how much he does for me and how wonderful he is? But then, what’s the point of that?
I wish he didn’t live in another country. I wish the ocean wasn’t between us. I wish that easy smile and perfect laugh were more accessible to me. But they’re not. And life right now is good. We are apart because of my choices, choices and dreams that he supports, fully, encouraging me on the days when I feel like it’s not worth it, speaking with excitement about the possibilities this season could yield. When there are so many things about life that are hard to describe these days, I’m glad he is one person to whom it’s not hard to explain. No arguments, no reminding me of how much easier things could be if I wanted different things, just a constant stream of enthusiasm and care.
Writing seems to let the tension out. Like letting air out of an over-pressurized balloon. I feel a little sigh of relief, and ease at having expressed what I’m feeling inside of me. Then it feels little strange – what do I do with this? This blog, as a whole, is a bit of a strange phenomenon, trying to welcome people in to the inner workings of my mind and heart without venturing into exhibitionism. I’ve avoided the topic of him as a whole here for that very reason (and because I think his privacy deserves protection).
So I suppose I will ask him if he’s all right with it before I post this, and then I will. Because, today, I miss him, and that’s is what I want to do about it.