I miss JD.
After so many practice periods apart from each other, one would think I’d be better at Distance. But, alas, while I can espouse the grandeur of Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder, I’d rather have less pomp and more JD.
Long-distance can be character-building, soul-finding and other dash-tastic loftiness. But it is also lonely. Full stop. I am with him to be with him. When you’re with a good one you don’t need time apart to remind you of his goodness. When the one you’ve pledged to be with is still the one you want to be with, you – lo and behold! – want to be with them. When you’re fine on your own, you’re fine. But you know you could be better with him.
JD and I are staunch believers that time apart is good for a relationship. Two capable individuals should never be reduced to fading into two halves of a lesser, albeit more popularly-romantic, whole. Each party should thrive – all the more due to the support of the other.
But, harlequin novel consulted, I am better with him. In an even more honest sentence, I miss him. I miss my husband and wish this half-way ‘cross the world move were happening togetho.
Yes, as my inner suffragette would have me disclaim, I’m doing alright on my own. I’m working hard, meeting friends, balancing the checkbook, etc. by myself. Functions are performing. But I want him here. He can take care of himself and I can take care of myself. But we take much better care of each other.
Hurry up, Immigration. I want my husband.