missing him
(Because sometimes I think it's totally ok to be transparent about your truest, raw feelings to your friends)
Texas welcomed me back this week with open arms. It was great to walk into DFW and see the familiar sights of Dallas as we drove through on Sunday night. It was wonderful to hug my parents and catch up with them. And the Mexican food tasted perhaps even better than I expected.
Tomorrow I trudge deeper into East Texas for preparation for Katie's big day on Friday. I couldn't be happier for my dear friend. Mom and I put the final alterations on my bridesmaid dress tonight, and it's ready to be put on one last time late Friday afternoon.
But throughout the joy and excitement at being back surrounded by the familiar, something's missing. Hubs couldn't come with me this week.
Hubs has become that catalyst of the familiar, that element that makes the joyous even more enjoyable. Things no longer seem quite right if they can't be shared with my companion, the love of my life. When the hecticity of the day fades to dusk and the lights go dim, the insomnia creeps in as the emptiness next to me in the bed grows colder. The strong, independent woman that I was even two years has softened into someone who is still the same, yet different. I'm not complete without him, there is a void when we are apart that inevitably must be faced. I cherish his voice on the phone more, I close my eyes and see his features. Somehow, subtly, he has crept inside the fiber of my being, so much so that the separation when we're apart - even for these 6 short days - can seem like an eternity. I think this is part of the mystery that Scripture speaks of when a husband and wife cleave to one another and become one flesh. The seperation of that oneness, even for brief instances of time, results in feelings of loneliness for the other half. I miss him. I love him fiercely, and am loved fiercely in return. And I'm so excited about seeing him again on Saturday.
In the meantime, I greatly enjoy my days with my parents and close friends, and try to sleep at night by listening to my iPod and leaving the closet light on.
Over the Rhine sums up the emotion in this post much more poetically in the song I've been listening to often throughout the last 24 hours...
Drunkard's Prayer
You're my water,
You're my wine,
You're my whiskey,
From time to time.
You're the hunger
On my bones,
All the nights I sleep alone.
Sweet intoxication,
When your words wash over me.
Whether or not your lips move
You speak to me.
Like an ocean
Without waves,
You're the movement that I crave.
And in that motion
I long to drown,
And be lost
Not to be found.
Texas welcomed me back this week with open arms. It was great to walk into DFW and see the familiar sights of Dallas as we drove through on Sunday night. It was wonderful to hug my parents and catch up with them. And the Mexican food tasted perhaps even better than I expected.
Tomorrow I trudge deeper into East Texas for preparation for Katie's big day on Friday. I couldn't be happier for my dear friend. Mom and I put the final alterations on my bridesmaid dress tonight, and it's ready to be put on one last time late Friday afternoon.
But throughout the joy and excitement at being back surrounded by the familiar, something's missing. Hubs couldn't come with me this week.
Hubs has become that catalyst of the familiar, that element that makes the joyous even more enjoyable. Things no longer seem quite right if they can't be shared with my companion, the love of my life. When the hecticity of the day fades to dusk and the lights go dim, the insomnia creeps in as the emptiness next to me in the bed grows colder. The strong, independent woman that I was even two years has softened into someone who is still the same, yet different. I'm not complete without him, there is a void when we are apart that inevitably must be faced. I cherish his voice on the phone more, I close my eyes and see his features. Somehow, subtly, he has crept inside the fiber of my being, so much so that the separation when we're apart - even for these 6 short days - can seem like an eternity. I think this is part of the mystery that Scripture speaks of when a husband and wife cleave to one another and become one flesh. The seperation of that oneness, even for brief instances of time, results in feelings of loneliness for the other half. I miss him. I love him fiercely, and am loved fiercely in return. And I'm so excited about seeing him again on Saturday.
In the meantime, I greatly enjoy my days with my parents and close friends, and try to sleep at night by listening to my iPod and leaving the closet light on.
Over the Rhine sums up the emotion in this post much more poetically in the song I've been listening to often throughout the last 24 hours...
Drunkard's Prayer
You're my water,
You're my wine,
You're my whiskey,
From time to time.
You're the hunger
On my bones,
All the nights I sleep alone.
Sweet intoxication,
When your words wash over me.
Whether or not your lips move
You speak to me.
Like an ocean
Without waves,
You're the movement that I crave.
And in that motion
I long to drown,
And be lost
Not to be found.
posted by Bonnie @ 12:57 AM
2 Comments
