I’ve returned from another far-too-short weekend in Santa Monica. (A short, busy weekend… we signed a lease! On our place! His & mine! Together!)
We’re still trying to figure out an exact date for my move. It was going to be mid February, then because of work stuff (mine) we decided end of Feb was best (his reasoning was, “I’ve waited my entire life for you, what’s another two weeks, right?”)
But then as we stepped away from each other at the gate yesterday, as I headed towards the flight that I kept hoping would be canceled, delayed, or missed, I texted him, “An extra two weeks is an eternity.”
He has moments of (unfounded) worry, thinking he’s too sensitive or too this or not enough of that for me. And I tell him it’s silly, the thought never crosses my mind – I’m far too busy thinking that I never thought it could be this good.