M and I used to have what you call a long-distance relationship for two and half years, seeing each other on average twice a month. It was very hard. Letting him go after a wonderful long weekend together felt devastating. Each time. We indulged in hour long telephone conversations each night, or several times per day, spending a fortune on phone bills and airplane tickets. When we moved in together, I was actually really nervous and a bit worried that it would be a bit hard at times. It wasn't. Everything immediately felt natural and comfy. Home is where he is. And so Hannover is now my home.
Except that he is not here with me these days, as he was sent on a very important business trip. He left yesterday and is now so far away that I can hear the distance over the phone connection. And I feel as if half of me was missing. Lazy, vulnerable, and a bit sad. Especially when I count the hours till next Sunday morning, when I'll pick him up from the airport. 107 hours to go.
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