And So You Miss Him

Warning: Saccharine content to follow...

It's only been a day since he left to have his face sliced open, and I knew that
I'd miss him in the general he's-not-here-and-so-I-miss-him sorta way, but I
didn't expect this.

I enjoyed sleeping in, and getting to sprawl across the whole bed (yes, the WHOLE bed!); I delighted in having a delicious bbq dinner with friends; and I played frisbee happily in the park, martini in hand, late into the night. During these activities I thought about him, alone in Barrie with face pain, very little (yah vodka) but when we went to look at the animals and I saw Ainsworth put his arms around Anna's waist I felt a sharp pain in my gut.

In that moment I missed him in a way that is difficult to explain if you've never felt it, and admittedly it sounds really silly and sappy. It's different from the feeling of "awww that's cute/jealousy/envy" that I've experienced before when noticing happy couples.

It's not a wishing for something you could have, it's realizing and appreciating something that you do have.

The gut pain dissipated, and I went back to taunting the Llamas behind the fence, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I've come to acknowledge, but not fully appreciate the great adventure/relationship/love life that I have with the wonderful man who I get to spend almost every day with.

Of course I am thankful for everything else too: my education, my friends, my family, my life, but I think that it's easier to forget how great something is when you're fortunate enough to be exposed to it everyday.

Does this mean that people should go away so we can miss them more? Not exactly (depending on the person), I just think that it's fascinating that you can have a physical reaction triggered by emotions you are not immediately aware of.

To that special someone: I can't wait until you come back so that my body can appreciate you the way you deserve, in person.