Time apart
Before we were married, Mrs. Happy and I spent a lot of time together. It was, well, sweet sorrow every time we parted. She used to ask, "Are you going to miss me?" I would always reply, "The only time I don't miss you is when I'm with you." That was probably sign No. 402 of at least 500 that I was truly in love with her, but even then I didn't recognize my own feelings, still thinking we were "just friends." We don't have to say goodbye at the end of the day anymore—one of the best things about marriage.
Even so, there have been times (not many, thankfully) when I've had to go several days without seeing my wife. Those days are painful and full of longing, but our reunions are the sweeter for it. She grows more beautiful every day, but when I go a few days without seeing her, that progressive beauty kind of builds up and stuns me when I see her again.
We haven't been apart this week, but we have been sort of separate. She got a freelance calligraphy job writing place cards for a fancy wedding reception, and it has been taking up all of her waking moments. We haven't arrived home from work at the same time, or gone to bed at the same time, or even really eaten at the same time. We have been able to converse a little, but her attention has been focused on the calligraphy.
I'm not complaining. This was a good thing for her to do. Nice handwriting is sort of a lost art in this age of e-mail and word processing, and skill at calligraphy is downright rare. She has both, and her services are like gold (at a bronze price) to brides who want to give their weddings an elegant touch. Usually her side jobs don't take up so much time, but this was a last-minute thing with a short deadline. As such, it was almost like being apart.
When she got home today she was a salve to my sore eyes, having continued to grow in beauty as always. I hugged her like I haven't hugged her in a week…and then some.
