Seems like such a cliche, but the truth is this: She's been gone a full week (as of tonight), and it feels quite literally like an eternity. I've had my ups and my downs, but right now I'm just wishing for a phone call or a text... ANYTHING to let me know that she's willing to take a moment out of her day and her vacation to get in touch with the man who loves her more than life itself.
I haven't heard from her since Saturday night. I am nonplussed.
I'm a buoyed by the fact that she returns tomorrow night, that I'll likely hear from her sometime tomorrow (when she lands in Houston, I hope), and that I'll be the one waiting for her, with open arms and a grin on my face, when she steps off that escalator at Denver International.
And as my friend Lysa said today, "Just love her. Unconditionally."
Guess I'll have to do that.
What came first, the music or the misery? People worry about kids playing with guns, or watching violent videos, that some sort of culture of violence will take them over. Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands, literally thousands of songs about heartbreak, rejection, pain, misery and loss. Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?
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