I'll admit, in times past, I somewhat looked forward to her trips. I'd buy a big bag of salt and vinegar potato chips, hot fries, and BBQ pork rinds, ice down a dozen beers and watch war movies, westerns, and action pictures to my hearts content. I ate snacks she doesn't care for, fixed dinners of things that I like to eat, and watched flicks she didn't like. I felt it was good quality "Me Time" well spent. She would be home in a few days and tell me of her adventures, the people she met and mingled with, the funny thing that happened, and all the lurid gossip.
I would tell her of my laying about and watching T.V. and how lucky she was to be staying out of town two nights ago because a pork rind/s&v chip/hot fries/beer diet tends to catch up with a person after the third day.
We celebrated her homecoming, had a nice meal, and would sit and talk for hours. Then we would snuggle up in bed and turn on some Mystery Science Theater 3K and fall asleep to the robots as we enjoyed each other's company again.
But this time it is different. I'm not sure why, but it is. I miss her like crazy.
Sure, she calls and I talk to her at least twice a day. But still, I miss her much. I'd be a liar if I said I didn't replay the twenty-second message on the answering machine more than twice. It was just a simple "sorry I missed you, will call later, I love you, goodbye." But Damn, she knows how to say I love you.
I feel adrift with her gone. I know she is an hour and a half away but somehow that just makes it worse. A gross as this may sound but I feel amputated somehow. I could manage a few days with one arm or the other out of commission, or if one leg was gimped up. It would be hard, but I would manage. But I feel as if I have lost something much more dear than my good right arm.
I've lost my heart. I sent it to Cleveland with Flannery.
To match my mood, I have selected an oldie but a goodie. Sit back, where ever you are, and bask in the morning sun, watch the tide, listen to the gulls, and count the boats.
As pleasant as the tune is, it has always sounded somewhat sad to me. He recorded this three days before his death. It was his only #1 hit on the Billboard Hot 100, and was a departure from the bulk of his other work. (thank you wikipedia)
Flannery will be home tomorrow night, and in the mean time I'm going to have a PBR, sort socks, and watch "Beerfest" to cheer myself up.
I hope you have a grand Friday and you make all the lights, cash a big check, kiss someone you love, and drink responsibly. Or at least in groups of four or more. There is at least a 75% chance you won't have to be the designated driver that way.