I feel the comforting pressure of her feet on mine. We dance to the peaceful sounds of our relaxed breathing and discussions of what will be—what has to be. My hands are around her waist, and her arms around my neck as her hazel love-glazed eyes seem to see through me to my core—to the part of me that no one but her can see. As I pull her head close to my chest, I feel her listening to the beating of my heart. I feel drunk, but I haven’t had anything to drink—love drunk.
She looks up at me and the corners of her mouth raise up into that you’re-my-future-and-I-know-it smirk that makes my world. This is happiness. Complete and utter happiness. As we dance, I wish that our children will have her smile. And her eyes. And her loving heart.
Cold, dark, emptiness. I reach my hand over to the passenger seat and search for her hand, but instead feel the fabric of the seat where she sat just five minutes ago before hopping out into the Delta terminal. I miss her already. As I drive home, thoughts of our weekend reprieve from our harsh reality of long-distance flood my head. The feeling of her body glued to my side as we sleep is still fresh in my memory. The love of my life, whose hand I so reluctantly let go a few minutes ago, seems to be one thousand miles away yet again.
And now, the sinking pit in my stomach returns as the darkness begins to again feel dark and the cold of winter feels colder. I hold tight to the memory of her touch as I imagine her plane taking off. I dread returning to my bed and the lonely sleepless nights that await until I can again come up for air. 16 days.
I met you by chance–
Fate pulled me into
your life. I love you.