Looking For Space
Last Monday, I woke up and made my way to the kitchen. The house was so quiet. The usual and busy Monday morning feel just wasn’t there. There would be no good morning kiss, or conversation over coffee. On the kitchen table I found a card, left for me by Husband. Inside it read “In you, I’ve found the love of my life and my closest truest friend.” And then right below was a handwritten message from him meant only for my eyes. Sweet and totally unexpected.
My heart went all aflutter. And I felt so ridiculously loved.
He left in the middle of the night, heading out of town on business for a full six days. When he told me about this trip several weeks before, I was practically giddy at the prospect. That may sound terrible. But if I do nothing else sharing my life here, I will always keep it real and honest.
Let me put it this way. It certainly doesn’t break my heart when he decides to go skiing or hiking for the day, preferring the company of his friends over mine when he partakes in said activities. And I won’t shed a tear when he tells me he wants to leave and go climb mountains for a week.
Hell, to put it bluntly, I flat out love it when he’s gone.
I have always been the type of person who periodically needs space. I have never made apologies for it, and I certainly won’t start now. And Husband is aware of this. He doesn’t share my affinity for solitude, but he doesn’t take it personally, either. It is what it is, and I am what I am. Better to be honest in my marriage than pretend to be someone I’m not, or feel something I don’t.
So here I was, six days with the house to myself. I wanted to relish the freedom. I excitedly thought about all the stuff I was going to do, things that I’m not exactly 100% comfortable doing when my mate is hanging around. Like eating whatever I darn well please, and staying up all night writing, reading, or watching crappy tv if I want to. Crazy long baths and mani-pedis. And not shaving my legs. Well, truthfully that one only sounds good in theory. I always end up grossing myself out and shaving like a mad woman whether my man is around or not. But you get the point.
It all sounded like a dream come true, and it was for the first few days. I did all of the things I wanted to do. I had cinnamon rolls and potato chips for dinner. I stayed up until 2 watching cheesy Lifetime movies. I took an hour long bath without him knocking on the door to check on me. I painted my toes once and fingers twice. And I did shave my legs, even though it was nice having the option not to.
And then it just didn’t feel all that special anymore. I wanted things back to the way they were. It was agony knowing I had to wait two more days for that to happen.
The feeling of freedom made way for longing. Longing for him and everything he is to me. I missed him to the point of tears. I wanted the feel of his hands on me, the sensation of his hugs and gentle kisses, because I was feeling sad and lonely and really needed them. I wanted to get back to our conversations and how we both love laughing at the very same things. I wistfully read my card over and over again, knowing he meant every word he said.
Because truth be told, I am my best and happiest when he’s around. If I had to finally choose between him or having my space, I unequivocally choose this man I married.
He would be home soon enough. And I knew this experience would not change my love for my own space and solitude. But the age old saying is very true.
Absence clearly does make the heart grow fonder.