My morning after Valentines day began at 5 am. I woke up with a headache and woke him with a kiss. We stumbled around the dark hotel room for a bit making positive he wasnt leaving anything behind, then it was time to go. I sat in the passenger seat as we joked around, trying to make light of the situation. I was holding back tears. Airport road came too soon.
He kisses me in the car. First on my lips, then moving up towards my forehead. A few tears escape and he wipes them away for me. I pull myself together and get out of the car. His luggage sits at his side, mocking me. He squeezes me for a long time, we kiss and then we part. He starts forward while still looking back and I shout something funny to disguise the fact that I am absolutely falling apart. And then he is gone.
I am alone. In his car. Staring blankly at the almost sunlit road. The terrible and usual thoughts roll through, of plane crashes or freak incidents. A few more tears compile as I worry that that could have been our last kiss. Deep down I know he will be ok, and back in, yes, only a week, but this is how I work. This is how I am made up. I worry, sometimes a lot, sometimes a little, until he is back at my side.
I make it back to the hotel room. Its still dim but there is some movement outside at this point. I pull the comforter, that is not mine, that is not comforting me at all, that still smells of him, completely over my head and try to quiet my thoughts. My mind races with the fact that we have never spent this much time apart. No more than two nights to be exact. My stomach aches as I wonder how it will all play out. I finally fall asleep to my little mantra...he will be ok, its just one week, you can handle it on your own, its just one week.
Two hours later, I wake up to a text message. From him, missing me, loving me. I am not alone.