Today my husband left to spend three weeks with my parents at their home, in a foreign country. This is only the second time in seventeen years that I have been away from him for more than a week.
At first, I was beyond thrilled with the idea. I thought that it was a good trip for him to get out of his rut, help my Dad out with his carpentry business and simultaneously provide me with some space to refocus.
Wonderful list maker that I am went on overdrive and created what I want to accomplish during his absence. Mainly organizing stuff, catching up with friends I haven't had the time to get to see lately and exercise. But here I am on, my first evening on my own....what do I do? I cried. Walking into this house without him in it felt....well...I don't know, weird? Strange? Dare I say lonely?
I need to literally and figuratively, suck it up. He has things to do, I have things to do. We are both safe and healthy for goodness sake. And my I dare to hope that distance will make the heart grow fonder? After 17 years, the heart, although involved, is not fond most of the time. And my I go as far to also hope that the butt will grow smaller? On that note, let me go get some exercise in for the day!