Friday, January 07, 2011

The BIG Question

Is It Worth It?

This night is the part of my new life that I most hate. I put my guy on a plane about 4 hours ago, and now he’s somewhere over Hudson Bay, Canada. By the time his tragically long flight is over he’ll have spent more than 12 hours in the cosmic garbage grinder that is the travel system; he’ll be stiff from sitting in a tiny plane seat for over 9 hours and he’ll be completely exhausted. I’ve asked him to call me just so I can know he’s home, safe and sound, and to hear his voice – even though it will be about 4am for me, I want to hear him because we probably won’t connect again for most of the weekend.

And we won’t be together again until July.

I’m not a crier, as you guys know, but I admit that this day at the end of each of our visits together gets to me. A lot. It starts the evening before, when I start thinking “this is the last time we’ll eat dinner together for months.”, “this is the last time we’ll crime into bed together for months.”, “this is the last time he’ll stick his icy-cold feet on my ass for months.” (ok, some things don’t seem so sad, I admit.) I get blue about two days prior to him leaving and I get ‘great, big, deep breaths’ about a day prior. And the last night we climb into bed together I start getting weepy.

This time around I finally figured out that I should always take off from work the first day after he arrives and the day he leaves. The fact that it took me this many visits to figure it out is one of those things that proves it’s amazing I can tie my shoes. (the bunny goes around the tree, the bunny goes down the hole, the bunny mocks me, mocks me, stupid bunny!... sorry, where were we?) I loved being able to wake up with him this morning, wrap my arms around him, eat breakfast with him, lose yet another couple of games to him. But the pressure of making the most of EVERY SINGLE MINUTE was even worse than previous days. And so were the tears. And at a certain point you just have to ask yourself the question you know your family and friends and all those damned strangers wandering around the airport are asking: Is this really WORTH that many tears?

Hells Yes.

(As the kids are saying these days)

Please don’t misunderstand: this long-distance thing sucks. I feel like a complete cliché as I stand there on my side of the stretchy rope wall, watching him fill white, plastic bins with his stuff and waving at me from further and further distances as goddamned tears slide down my cheeks. Because remember: I’m NOT a crier! NAHHHHHT! You can poke me right in the eye and won’t get your finger even slightly damp. I could watch Field of Dreams and The Notebook back to back, followed by that stupid “Christmas Shoes” song and nary a tear. NARY! So to have a day where I get gulpy because I catch sight of his passport, or sniffly thinking about eating breakfast alone tomorrow… This is so not me it’s like I’ve suddenly got a penis and green eyes. (probably could have left off the thing about green eyes.)

So keep doing this? Really? Are you sure?

There’s no question. Every gulpy moment is more than balanced by the times when big, warm hands massage my head to calm me down; by songs we sing together and movies we quote to each other; by the amazing silver pendant hanging around my neck; by each time he leans down, nuzzles my neck and whispers in my ear three words every person longs to hear, me probably more than most. I don’t need to give you the words – you already know what they are. (no, not those three. No, not those either. Seriously? Those words? OK, now you’re just trying to piss me off…)

I’m sitting on my couch, kitties pinning me down on either side. I’ve been drowning my single-life sorrows in tater tots and Frosted Flakes since I got home from the airport. I’m taking solace in Criminal Minds reruns because “Hey, at least my sweetie isn’t a crazed serial killer!!” (it’s the little things that really matter, right?) I am supposed to be taking down the Christmas tree, on the theory that since I’m already incredibly blue it’s a good time to do other things that make me blue, but my melancholy has sucked up all my initiative. (and besides, it’s not like I’ll be chipper tomorrow. I’ve got an entire weekend to be blue and do depressing things! Sunday I’m gonna check my bank balance and step on the scale! Shudder…) I just checked my iPhone ‘where is your sweetie’s plane NOW?’ app for the 10th time (“if you look out the right side of the plane you’ll see Air Force Island and other totally imaginary places in Canada.”) and I keep doing the math for when he’ll land. When he’ll call.

And all of this crap is totally, TOTALLY worth it for the big, dopey grin this boy gives me during the four or five months a year that we are together. So tomorrow I’m gonna buy a new webcam and headset and get ready for the next many months of online life until July, when T.E. comes back to me. TOTALLY WORTH IT.

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