It's a rainy day here in Omaha...a rainy, stormy and dreary day spent under a quilt with the fuzz people. A day spent missing my husband...an ache which seems to spread from under my ribs out to my fingertips. It hits and for a moment I think I might be having a stroke.
But no...it's just my body manifesting the loneliness that I can usually keep at bay with one of my many, many projects. But some days, like today, the weather seems to make my usual frenetic energy slow down until all I want to do is sleep. And mope. And cry. And feel sorry for myself.
On our first date in SF.
And miss him. And worry that every time the phone rings...it's bad news. Horrible news. And then yelling at myself for worrying when I get his latest email. During the wait in between contact...chanting to myself: he's ok, he's ok, he's ok....over and over again.
Normally, I like storms - the days when you curl up with your loved ones, warm and safe at home. But while he's gone...they seem to taunt me with loneliness, make me realize what I am missing.
Oh, don't listen to me. I'm just feeling sorry for myself. And now that I have depressed everyone...I'll call it done.
A couple months before our wedding.