So Andy flew home today. There he sits on the West coast in balmy sunshine while I'm left behind in the dismal depths of winter, wrapped in blankets, a sad substitute for him. Feeling sorry for myself? Yeah, a little bit.
But I was the first one he called when his plane landed today. He wanted me to know he was alright...and that he loved me and missed me terribly. I smiled. I invited him to turn around and fly back to me.
I found myself anxiously driving home from work anticipating a Skype call with him. As if I hadn't seen him in days. Well, actually I hadn't! He rang me up and suddenly he appeared in that old familiar pixellated fashion. But at least he was there.
We shared tidbits and stories. Like he mentioned that 4 different people have asked him if he got married. That was interesting. Today I found myself saying something that surprised even me. Someone at work walked up to my desk and saw a picture of Andy on my screen. He asked, oh is that your husband? And without thinking, I said yes. Then he said really?? And I said, well, he will be. Where did that come from? That's the second time that kind of thing happened. I wonder if it's my subconscious. Maybe I have Turret's.
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