I’ll miss this.
He’s off for his three month gig.
I picked J up from his house up north and we drove back down to my house yesterday morning. I made a psuedo Thanksgiving dinner and the four of us played games and hung out until it was time for the girls to go to bed.
We got in bed around 9, because for the most part, we didn’t really want to talk about missing each other or how it might be hard. But just being in bed together for a long night, felt like the only thing left to do. I was well aware of him, as I woke up every hour, next to me and I wanted to stay aware of it because it will be a little while before it happens again.
The fact that he is going south for this big gig definitely has a goodt feel to it, aside from the part about missing him. This is a part of who he is, so it ends up being a part of who we are. That he’s a musician who will mostly be with us, but sometimes go away.
I am certainly grateful for technology, for ichat and email and skype, for us to communicate.
I am grateful he has made it known that he expects me in December and he expects me for a week in February. And I am touched that he has made it clear that when he comes back in three months, his intention is to be around as much as he has been.
After getting him to the airport shuttle early this morning, I brought the girls to school. I’ve been doing okay, feeling a little sad, but knowing I have alot of work ahead of me the next few weeks for my business, along with the holidays. I know I can keep it in perspective and know I will feel sad sometimes and lonely on occasion. But I am heartened by the fact that we have a really really good thing going.
So, I take the girls to school and a friend of mine was standing there. And Red went right up to her and said “We just took the J to the airport shuttle and won’t see him again until March!”
So, I was doing okay until my friend started to cry for me. She got all teary and I got all teary and choked up. She goes, “Three months?” And I just nodded.
I walked in my house, wondering how I would spend the morning, with the girls in school, with J leaving town.
And my phone rang and it was J, sitting at Starbucks at Logan, reading the paper, having checked his luggage, his keyboard and bag, and had opened the cards the girls and I had each made him.
“I feel very loved by you,” he said.