Flying Solo - the Aftermath

The last week and a half has been so good. Bryan being gone was tough, but it was ultimately good for us. I knew that dealing with getting the girls up and ready and to school and home and fed and to bed by myself was going to be difficult. Doable, but difficult. What I wasn't prepared for was how much I missed him. Just... him. Not Dad him, not Roommate him, not Protector him (though I did miss those things); his smell, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, his grounded insight into everything, his goofy puns, his dirty socks left in the most random places (OK, I didn't really miss that last one...).

I don't know why that surprised me. When we first moved to Boston, Bryan went away to play drums for a college retreat. I couldn't go because I had 1L stuff of some sort going on, and it was the first time we'd ever been apart more than 24 hours. Neither one of us slept at all that weekend. Then I went to Washington, D.C. without him later and I ended up standing by on an earlier flight so I could get home to him. It's almost a physical connection we have.

We've been married our entire adult lives - 11 years this month - and it's just so precious to know we still like each other, we still love each other, we still can't sleep without each other.

(This one of my favorite photos of us - taken in 2006, I think, in Harvard Square. I have very vivid memories of this evening, walking around just being together, people-watching.)