Something was missing this morning. Sure, I managed to stay in bed until 9, and sure, I listened to Steve Wright’s Sunday love songs. I read a bit, caught up with Facebook, and planned the day. But all of this felt slightly less real for one simple reason – when I opened my eyes I was, as always, alone. As the dedications rolled in from couples discussing whether they will be in bed with a cup of tea, or in bed with breakfast, or just plain in bed, it was impossible not to wish to be in the same situation with the person I love (except without Steve Wright on the radio, obviously).
This struck me as being a “missed moment” – a moment that we will never get back. I think for those of us in long distance relationships, it is these brief encounters missed that weigh heavy on our minds. A moment on time that will now never exist. Next weekend I will be ambling across to York once more, arriving Friday evening. I’ll be leaving after what has the potential to be a fairly important meeting discussing internal attendance monitoring, and how that is being communicated to students – a meeting critical enough that I cannot leave early. Why is this as issue? Well, I’ve been invited to the theatre for a play that starts about half an hour earlier than I can get to York. That’s 2 hours of shared time, of laughter, of quiet hand holding, that I will never get back. Whilst every fibre of my being desperately wants to be there, I know it is simply not possible.
Even after a year, the 168 miles separating two souls in love has the ability to knock me for six every day. It can take real effort to bounce back when your mind dwells on the distance, the days not spent together – and particularly those missed moments that you will never be able to get back.
Sometimes, it is only the knowledge that I’m blessed by a love which will one day make the most of every moment that can bring back the smile so often wiped off by distance.
antonyjcbutcher 