Longing...

My pen and paper are fast becoming two of my best friends, compatriots on the voyage of my existence. Truly, I would be lost without them now. The sound of a pen scratching across a leaf of paper is becoming an all too familiar sound. It is almost comforting to me now.

I take to the paper once more to express a new pain. A feeling of extreme longing, for someone whom I hold very dear. Someone whose six months of companionship feel a lot more like sixty years.

At this current point in time I am separated by a relatively small distance. At a domestic port that feels strangely foreign to me. An airport. A familiar construct. In a city I know all too well. Though this sity is in my home country, it still feels foreign.

I've been here many times before. On holidays. On business. I know the area like the back of my hand. Again, that feeling of alienation. The place I belong is back in my home town.

With the one I hold dear to me. The one I love.

Staying at the residence of my most venerable hosts, though immensely enjoyable, has taken a hidden toll on my psyche for the time being. A separation anxiety of the highest order. A feeling of longing that cannot be quantified with words alone. An expression of love and care for the one I hold dear.

Messages that could not be delivered as the contents of an entire tome, let alone a string of text messages. I only hope that this person could somehow understand how I feel.

Every activity I have undertaken here, in this strangely foreign place, has been laced with thoughts of her. Of her well being. Of an unquantifiable longing for her sweet touch. Her smooth caress.

Mornings out in the country definitely were sweet, but of course, my mind was lingering on things much sweeter. A sweet touch, and a smooth caress. Like an early morning dew, that makes the fields sparkle and glisten with the sunrise.

Daytime was pleasant as well, filled with both high and low octane activities. Motorbike riding, animal tending, basic farm work. The loud roar of an old blunt chainsaw, trying in vain to make its mark on a stiff log of pine.

And the evenings. A crackling fire. Meals fit for kings. The company of a very generous family. Good times, and some very close games of pool.

But still, endless thoughts of her. That feeling of longing. Of desperation. Woefully expressed in another long spate of seemingly meaningless text messages.

With the next sunrise I will finally be able to express my feelings. Truly, I am awaiting the moment with an even greater longing. From ten thousand feet up, screaming home in the belly of a steel behemoth. Towards familiar surroundings. My home city.

I am grateful for one objective in particular I was able to achieve while on this trip. I have undergone a rather intense test of my chivalry, fortitude and character. I have endured a week of minimal contact with her. A week in oddly unfamiliar surroundings. A week where infidelity, of all things, was not only possible; it was expected.

Truly the perfect crime. But not only was this crime not committed, it was not even contemplated until this moment. Which speaks volumes to me about my character.

The moment of finality is just over the horizon, and true to my own humanity, I am rushing headlong towards it. Waiting in joyful hope and anticipation. Waiting for the one i desire most in the whole world.

I love you.