I’m a Wuss
I picked Justin up from the airport a couple hours ago. He was in Houston on a corporate business trip for two nights, which reminded me that … I don’t know how to be “single” anymore. Not that I was ever really a “singles scene” gal — parties, serial dating, etc. No, the “single” I’m referring to is more the “I’m home alone for two whole nights. No matter how late I stay up, I know Justin won’t be coming to bed with me. Now what?”
I thought I’d play some computer games (totally addicted to ROME: Total War, and enamored by Zoo Tycoon 2), or make a dent in the ceaselessly growing “to do” list for our business. Nope! Instead, I channeled my aimless energy into a maniacial clean-up of our front yard, removing all traces of Christmas Past, mulched the fallen oak leaves and pruned the hearty plants in my garden for the spring to come. Nevermind our silly weather has three straight nights of freezing nighttime temperatures in store, beginning tonight.
Of course, I still have our blasted Christmas tree up, which explains why only an artificial tree works in the Moore household!
No, I just don’t track right when my other half is away — even for two measely nights. I’m a wuss. It’s different when I’m camping. While I miss Justin when I camp solo, the sensory input, exercise and stories to be shared when I return fill the void. It’s therapeutic time, rather than, “Okay. So, this is interesting. I’m talking to myself, and answering. Please, make it stop!” 
I wrote Justin a sappy love letter last night and gave it to him on our return home today. I’ve always expressed myself far better in writing or physically than verbally, and marriage hasn’t changed that. I love my man, and am in awe of him — his birthday card to me included that I was his “hero”. I guess we have a case of “Hero Worship,” because he is my hero as well. Always has been.
So, I’ll conclude this entry merely by stating the obvious — if you love someone, let them know that every day and in every way you can. That goes for good friends, as well. These are riches that no bank can put an exchange rate on…
