I Miss What Now?!

I’m a little more than halfway through deployment. (Today makes 4 months, for those who are interested in knowing.) and it’s 0045, and I’m re-binge watching The Walking Dead because I’ve seen basically everything else. 

And laying here on the couch, wondering how much longer I can go without crying, I’m struck dumb by the things I miss. I didn’t even know it was possible to miss these things about a person. 

1.) 3 AM you. I miss rolling over and having intense conversations we hardly remember in the morning. 3 AM you wants to know my thoughts and dreams and make plans with me. And I miss that, when 3 AM rolls around, and I roll over, and there’s no one there. 

2.) Knowing where you are. That’s silly, and sounds kind of creepy, I know. But when I only have a generalization, a country, not a location…I worry. I am a professional worrier. And I miss not worrying. 

3.) The way you think Whataburger is fine to eat 3 times a day. It’s not. When you’re home, by the time you leave, I can’t stand in a Whataburger without being nauseous. I can’t believe I miss this. 

4.) Not feeling alone. I know there’s people. They say “call me”. They offer to hang out. But it’s different. I miss knowing that I’ve got you for everything. Every bump on this roller coaster, every twist in the road… I miss not feeling like I’m doing everything alone. 

5.) Laughter. No one, no one, can make me laugh like you can. And I feel like it’s been such a long time since I’ve had a good laugh. I miss your jokes. I miss the cheesy pickup lines you tell me at night before I go to sleep. (As if you don’t already have me.) 

I thought I knew what missing someone felt like. I thought I knew what sleeping alone was like. I thought, I thought, I thought… And now I know. It’s waking up at 3 AM and wanting to make plans you won’t follow through, but having no one to make plans with. It’s staying up all night hoping to hear from you. It’s driving past Whataburger and remembering all those mornings eating breakfast in the parking lot. It’s knowing you have someone to talk to when you leave work, for a certainty, and not hoping you’re gonna catch them before the time change means one of you is asleep. It’s telling cheesy jokes and stupid pick up lines and laughing and being happy. It’s being asleep at 0045 next to each other, and complaining about getting up for work. 

I thought I knew what missing you felt like, 7 months ago when all we had were Skype dates and phone calls. 

But now I know, because now we have less than that. I miss you with a deep, dull ache that resonates all the way to my bones. I miss your voice most of all. But I miss everything about you all the time. 



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