He didn't land till 11:20 Monday night, so I spent the day having lunch with a friend, cleaning, and generally trying to contain my excitement. 8:00 pm rolled around and I hopped in the shower, got ready, and got in the truck. I blasted music all the way to the airport, and settled into the cell phone waiting lot until he texted me. Finally, he said he was curbside, I threw the car in gear, charged down the street, all the while chanting to myself to remember to breathe.
I saw him standing there, in uniform, bags set beside him. I rammed the car in park, jumped out, and couldn't help but run to him, getting caught in a long hug as we just both stood there teary eyed and clinging to each other. Finally we drew back enough to kiss, hug again, and finally get into the car. He decided he wanted to drive home, and so we laughingly switched seats and off we went.
Relief doesn't even begin to describe it. That was the prevailing feeling, just pure relief that he was here, that this was finally over, that we could start our lives again, and that our love had survived this, and was still tangibly, palpably present.
We have always clicked, and the past few days we have effortlessly clicked back into place, routines are beginning again, our hands find each other's as we walk, we talk and tease and hang out just as we used to. It almost feels as if he's been gone a week instead of nearly seven months.
I am so thankful this is all over, and cannot wait to keep my living life with him in it.