I’m done. I’m done living with my parents, sleeping alone, and substituting five-minute Skype conversations for real intimacy. It’s now been over three months since I’ve seen my husband, and up until just recently, I think I was handling the separation quite well. I threw myself into work, exercise, naps, and visiting friends, and, despite feeling down in the dumps for a while, I was holding it together. I was…fine.
But then I spent this past weekend visiting my long-time friend and her husband. We had a great time exploring their town, hiking, playing board games, and cooking delicious meals. It was a wonderful weekend. I didn’t feel like a third wheel at all, actually. Yet by the end of the weekend I was absolutely aching to be home with my husband.
I think being around a couple for an entire weekend reminded me of what my life normally looks like: waking up next to someone, showering together, eating meals together, relaxing on the couch together, going to church together…nothing particularly exciting or glamorous, but normal activities that are just more fun when you have someone to share them with. These couple friends of mine aren’t super affectionate or lovey-dovey, but you can tell they adore each other and are completely content to hang out together as much as possible. I miss that.
So I left and faced a 6-hour drive—alone—with nothing but longing to wrap up my time here and get back to my other half. I can’t wait to just BE with him again, and not have to arrange our Skype schedules around a ten-hour time difference. Yes, I know this time apart has been productive and good for my career. But now, with 32 days to go, I am officially done. I think the last few weeks really will be the hardest…wish me luck.