The Longing
Sometimes in life, there are things we want to say out loud, but the words won’t seem to come. Is it fear of disappointing those around us, or maybe fear that what we are going to say isn’t really what is bubbling inside us? Why are words so hard to find at times? Thoughts and emotions become so entwined, the words get entangled in the snare set by these complex internal whirlings.
So here I sit, three days before Christmas, alone inside these walls filled with a somber darkness and a chill that seems to seep through to my bones, no matter the thermostat setting. It’s not really about the temperature – it’s the thoughts, the loneliness, the bridled anticipation. What am I waiting for? The same thing I am always waiting for.
This started as a love letter to remind him that he was my one. He didn’t know I was writing to him, spilling the contents of my aching heart onto the screen so that when he was ready, the thoughts would all be there waiting for him. It helped me to fill the hours while he was half a world away. I could close my eyes and let my fingers pound out the frustrations of my aching heart, the pain escaping through my tears… and hide them in pretty words that revealed how much he meant to me, even if he couldn’t see it. I found a sort of peace in documenting, being able to go back to particular points in time and watch how I never wavered. How I clung to him and the hope he brought to a life in shambles.
The one constant in life is change. We promote and we relocate and we keep reaching for the stars, believing that if keep pushing it has to get better. This time the “better” is starting to feel worse. I know in my head that this was the best change, truly I do! There is usually a dark side though, a letting go. A moving on. Some are permanent and some are only for a season, and sometimes the seasons seem endless.
The plan was to follow me. He was going to find a job and be right behind me. A year or two max, but that is nothing compared to where we have been before. But then a year turned to two… turned to three…. three and a half. Rejection letters started piling up. His hope starts to fade. (How can it not? I don’t blame him.) I beg him to just come anyway – it will all work out. We have made it this far. But you know my Beast. He is stubborn and so hardheaded. He has his own demons to slay and I haven’t found the magic potion yet to break that spell. Which is why I sit here all alone with an ache that I can’t seem to put into words, wishing that one day I will be able to have him here for more than a visit, more than a weekend. Wondering why courage can’t be shared… contagious even. Wondering when my lucky number is finally going to be called.
One day …
ILYMTCCCD 