Friday, 12 July 2013
Spoiler Alert: There Are Tears
Today is my fifth wedding anniversary.
I am married to the most superlative man. The kind of man who, when I announce out of the blue that I would like to go to Africa, says not just "why?" or "ok" but "that sounds amazing, and I am proud of you."
So here I am sitting in a restaurant in Terminal 5 at Heathrow, trying to weep inconspicuously because it's my fifth anniversary and I miss my husband.
I didn't actually expect to miss him. That sounds terrible. What I mean is I didn't expect to miss him so completely. I mean, we have Skype, Facebook, email, texting - we've been in fairly constant communication since I left, and as an independent female (hear me roar), I figured I'd be fine.
And I am fine - but sitting in a familiar restaurant, where we just were together a few weeks ago, and eating the dessert he absolutely loved, I'm having a hard time holding it together.
Side note: I've made something of a career crying in public. Every year, I adjudicate music festivals, and I often choke up when I see a kid doing something extraordinary, and I always cry during curtain calls and parades and concerts and fireworks. I cry a lot, publicly - probably more than the normal person - and I should be used to it, and it should be ok to express emotion in a public setting. Why isn't it? Our emotions are part of our humanity. Why can't we be free to express them? Why does it make other people uncomfortable? Why do we care so much?
Anyway, I'm off on my great adventure today, and I actually wish I was headed home.
That's just a piece of me. The lonely piece and the freaked out piece.
The other pieces are excited, honoured, thrilled, and chomping at the bit. I'm doing something today I've always wanted to do, and I realize how much freedom, independence and adventure mean to me.
And I'm grateful to have a partner who supports me in all of the above.
Ok. Enough schmaltz. Next report will be from the road, and completely schmaltz-free. Promise.