Tuesday, March 24, 2009
It was a weepy weekend. Could’ve been the rain. Could’ve been hormones. Could’ve been the night with my family that really seemed like it should’ve included Mr. Wonderful. Could’ve been the fact that we passed our marker for longest time ever apart. Maybe it was a combination of everything. Regardless, it was a rough one.
I seem to be in constant battle with the calendar. I have two of them staring at me from the walls of my cubicle right now…one is set to March, one to April. There are big red boxes around the days I’ll be in London over Easter.
I think once I can actually flip both calendars to next month, I’ll feel better. Because then it’ll at least be The Month I’m going to see him again.
But I don’t really want to speed through the year, continually anxious to get to the next calendar page. Time goes fast enough as it is, I really don’t need to be accelerating it.
People tell me to take advantage of this period and do all the things I wouldn’t have time for if Mr. W were here. Well, I am doing that. And it does make me really happy to catch up on writing and cleaning and scrapbooking…most of the time. But then the rollercoaster crests that pinnacle and starts racing back down into the pit of He’s Gone. And the next thing you know, I’m counting weeks on the calendar again.
When I get home from this upcoming visit, there’s a good chance I’ll get to have a weekend with him again in May. Memorial Day in Tampa to meet his mom for the first time. It’ll only be 6 ½ weeks of waiting in between. Then hopefully only another 5-6 weeks before I can go over there for my extended stay.
I know I’m being a wimp. I know we’ll look back on this in September and think it flew by. But I don’t want to feel like I lost a year to waiting. Nor do I want to feel like I spent a year doing really great stuff—all without him.
Okay I’m starting to irritate myself now… I’ll shut up.