The rolling around in bed on a weekend with the dog.
The exchange of SMS-es about the dog's antics, imagined real.
The comforting silence in the house, the feeling that spaces between us are occupied when both of us are quiet and in separate rooms. The lack of emptiness.
The luxury of collapsing, unmasking and just being a vegetable, nurtured in your tender hands. Without you, I have to remain strong for myself. I don't get any time off.
But here's what I already miss:
Your excitement at doing something with me or discovering something new.
Your reaching out for me to cuddle, your telling me of stories to put me to sleep.
Your random SMS-es or phone calls to tell me that I am on your mind.
Your little surprises.
Your being happy. With me, with the world.
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