Saturday, September 10, 2011


I'm half way through two weeks with my husband away on a work trip in SE Asia. I haven't had much internet access as my husband thinks he needs our computer for work or something and took it with him.   It's our first time apart in about nine months, and we don't really like it but know its probably good.  But also hard.  Good/hard, like most things in life that help us grow.

The boy is definitely missing his daddy, also teething and I think a bit sick with a snotty nose.  We've had some rough nights, some extra naps (mostly him) but some wonderful walks at the harbour, explorations in the sand, bird-watching time and generally just doing most everything together every day.  He keeps me busy, that Safran. 
 And there's that familiar missingness - a word that Chris and I possibly made up (but maybe not) during our 21 months of long distance friending - or at least the last 12 months of it in which we were expressing our affections to each other.  It's that thing that lives in your heart when the person you love is away from you, that longing and pain and expectancy and joy that's pregnant with so much hope and possibility but constantly aware of the not yet.

I have a love/hate relationship with missingness when she's around (like now).  But when she's gone (and she's mostly gone these days, ever since we said those vows), I kind of ... miss ... her.  I miss the anticipation of an email, garbled Skype conversations, the ache when you see lovers on the street together but yours is so far away, the pictures that you could stare at all day, and the way you feel as your falling asleep at night, imagining that one day you'll be back together again.

It's a special thing, this being apart but longing to be together.  But if I had to choose between the emotions of missingness or the mundane and wonders of being with the boy, I definitely, definitely, definitely pick the boy.


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