In three more days, he will be here. We'll be together again and life will at last be as it should be. He and I, together.
The months apart are hard. There are times when it is easier to bear than others, but it is always hard. The shortest time we were apart was a little over a month... and that was still difficult. We were lucky that time, usually the months in between number closer to four.
In just three days he'll be getting off the plane and walking out to the curb, and I'll be pulling up and jumping out of the car to meet him. It's starting to sink in, but I know it won't fully hit me until I see him standing there, with that gorgeous smile of his.
I'm excited and eager, and you would think that that would make this week a little easier. It doesn't though. As hard as it gets the rest of the time, that last, final week before we are reunited at last is one of the hardest. Every single time. We are so close... but we aren't there yet. We still have to wait. We still have to be patient. Just those few... last... long.... days....
But then we'll be together again, and the heartache of waiting will be over and forgotten, lost in the joy of being with each other again. We just have to get through three more days.