[with apologies to Gabriel Garcia Marquez]
When I left Ed at Heathrow in July – and I actually wept, for the first time in years – 100 days stretched ahead of us until we could be together again.
100 days of longing and impatience, 100 days of separation, 100 days of sexual frustration and anticipation, 100 days of emails and texts and skype waves and phone calls and time zone calculations, 100 days of cards and postcards.
100 days of being thousands of miles apart, while organising a house-move, finding tenants/cat-sitters, applying for a visa, renegotiating a job and planning an engagement party, not to mention a wedding. More than enough days for cracks to appear…
Thankfully, there have been no cracks so big that a hug and an honest conversation can’t fix them, and we can do the latter very well even if we can’t do the former for another few weeks.
The 100 days is now down to just 21. Yay!
Patience may be a virtue, and virtue, we’re told, is its own reward but actually I have been VERY patient and now I’d like to be rewarded with my Gorgeous Ed, thanks very much.