Two Days In A Row.

Most people get Valentine's Day as their chance to be cheesy/romantic/have PDAs without being judged.  I'm a lucky girl because I don't get one day to celebrate love: I get two in a row.  Today is the accepted day of love in the Western Hemisphere:  tomorrow, however, is our own special day.  Last year it marked six months together.  This year, it will be 18.  I know these are relatively small moments, insignificant amounts of time, when compared to what I call great loves: then years of courtship.  Married fifty years.  Raised three children.  Lived on four continents.  Etc, etc, etc. . . however, I believe fortunes are amassed penny by penny.  I believe in a "forever" that is built moment by moment. . . therefore I can't help but feel pleasure in marking these little passings of time.

Of course, I don't get to "celebrate" either of these things today/tomorrow because I'm away at school and Boyfriend is home: but soon enough we're having our OWN Valentine's day, and we'll mark these holidays of the heart in our own quiet way. . . which is sort of how I like things.  My life is big enough, loud enough, messy enough, complicated enough, razzle dazzle and intrigue filled enough, for a hundred novels and at least a musical or two.  I like a quiet, simple, steady love. . . and I get to celebrate mine soon.

So grateful.

It's Kind of Romantic, Right?

These are the moments that make a long distance relationship so special.  In a few minutes, this awful, smelly, cramped, crying-baby-and-possible-hobo filled bus will arrive back home.  I will grab my things and head out to the platform, where I will look for Boyfriend who is coming to pick me up.  You know the cheesy movies?   The ones wit big dramatic reunion scenes at trains and buses and stepping out of cabs?  They sort of get it right.  There is no feeling that can compare to having finished a long trip, your body stiff from the uncomfortable seats, your stomach in knots and your eyes scanning the crowd.  Then you see him/her, and it's like a weight lifted off of your shoulders: a cliche expression, I know, but if you've ever spent more than a few days (or even a few weeks) away from the one you love, you know what I mean.  You walk lighter than air to where they're standing, and there is nothing like that first hug or kiss hello.

It can last forever.  It can last a second.  It will last all through your reunion, your next departure, your next absence, until you come home again.  It's a wonderful thing, but just like you can't appreciate the light without the dark or a good meal without being hungry, you can't really feel it unless you've felt the weeks apart first.

27 more minutes until I can exhale again.

I Love Sara.

This is on my "must choreograph to" list.