Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Some things I have to do for me.

I called him.

I was driving home from Stacy's, where we'd talked of the joys of marriage. I was on my way home, and he was on my mind - a leftover from the afternoon's conversation. So I called him.

I didn't feel a thing. It was weird to recognize the voice, and the tone, but I didn't miss anything about it. There was no nostalgia. It was like talking to an old friend from high school -- one I hadn't thought much about over the years.

We talked of our families, our cooking skills; small talk. Then I was home, and I couldn't get off the phone fast enough. I couldn't wait to run inside, find HIS arms, and snuggle close. I had arrived where I belong.

Remembering where I'd been - it made coming home so much sweeter.

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