after going the distance...
Nobody tells you that the best part of the first morning after long distance is the quiet.
I wake up before he does, and for a while I just lie there listening to my lover breathe, his arms around me (which I’m pretty sure have not been away from me the whole night.)
I look around and the flowers are on the bedside table, a bouquet of chrysanthemums, baby’s breath, and lilies, all in white and green.
Our clothes all over the floor and the chairs.
An unfinished drink or two. We were both too excited and too tired to finish them last night.
Bags and suitcases half-opened, with snacks that I brought from home scattered on the floor. I remember how he dug through them excitedly.
The glow of the sunlight from the window seems brighter than usual.
Two bodies attached to each other like magnets, his face so deeply and peacefully asleep that I can even trace a smile.
I run my fingers along his shoulders and think, “This is real. We are together.”
Then I notice something in the air—the kind of peaceful, even eerily quiet sort of moment. Both in the room and in my head.
No more questions of “What is he doing today?” “When will I see him?” because I know. He’s finally right in front of me.
I didn’t realize how heavy it was, reaching for my phone first thing in the morning to talk to my favorite person, until I didn’t have to anymore.
Now there’s only the thought of breakfast, and of sleeping in, and of catching up and talking endlessly throughout the day. There is no more waiting.
And for once, we don’t have to count down the days until we see each other again. We get to count the little moments instead, like our quiet mornings.