A Hard Day's Night

"And ever has it been known that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation." - Khalil Gibran

I found that out today. And I'm awake because of it now.


I moved to Byram yesterday. My parents, Steven, and I moved everything I own and then some up three flights of stairs in the sticky summer heat that I have grown to loathe as I've gotten older. I've decided the characteristic Southern heat is the culprit for a good chunk of the crime in this part of the country - people are just hot and miserable - temporary heat induced insanity.

I digress....


I'm already kind of settled in - almost everything is unpacked. But it's not home yet. I am impossibly sore from all the heavy lifting and my sleep is so off. (it's 2:19am as I write) I'm awake because of several things. The most annoying is that someone's car alarm keeps going off. The most unfortunate is that I'm heart sick. For the first time in a year and a half, I am separated from Steven. Two days ago, we lived together. Today we don't.Although it's been several weeks since Steven took a job in Oxford and I knew I would be moving to take my job in Terry, my heart wasn't ready for today. It took me months to get ready for this move physically. I have been so busy lately that I didn't prepare emotionally. What little preparation I had done in that area all got destroyed the second Steven got in his car to leave this afternoon. I felt like I couldn't breathe.


But can miles truly separate you...?


Good-bye's make you think. They make you realize what you've had and what you're losing, and what you've taken for granted. They make you realize what you'd change. They make you beg for the next hello.

As I was decorating today after he left, I put a picture of Steven next to my bed. it's one of those pictures where his eyes follow me and no matter where I are in the room he's still looking at me. If that was some old kooky picture of some aristocrat of yonder year in a powdered wig, I would have been terrified and probably chucked it off my balcony... but it was so comforting. Although I miss him more than anything, I'm reminding myself I'm lucky to have someone so amazing to miss. I'm reminding myself, but that doesn't make it much easier. This is a first for me. And I hope it's the last first. Otherwise you'll get to read more depressing 2:30am therapeutic literature laments from yours truly. I'll try to keep them to a minimum. I suppose blogging is better than having a conversation about my feelings with a bowl of brownie batter.




I'm saving that for tomorrow.




I miss you...

Erin