I remember a time when I would check my email’s 70 times a day to see if I had an email.
As I would sit down to the computer my heartbeat would accelerate with anticipation. The computer would never move fast enough. The usual perfect connection would slow to a snails pace as I drummed my fingers waiting. More often than not the excitement of what was waiting on the other side of the login page would be visible in my shaking fingers, as I misspelled my password. Another second between me and that treasured email. I needed it like a drug. My heart was beating even faster…. was there an email waiting for me? PLEASE! YES I would have 2 or 3, but only one mattered. I was blind to annoying spam mail, surveys sent to me for the trillionth time.. what was that anyways. Yes, it was there. An email from my love. Jason. My heart would slow down as I tried to read every word so carefully, not to miss anything he was telling me. Still excited I usually had to read it a few times to get every word in. To memorize everything, to hold me over until the next fix.
How I missed him. I was stuck in that gosh-forsaken town. In that ridiculous school, while he was 100+ miles away. Great now all I can think of is Friday, when I get to see him again. The thrill of the email is forgotten, and like a drug all I can think about is Friday… like a drug calling my name. I would get to see HIM, not just his picture on my nightstand. Smell him, not just his tshirt that I kept under my pillow. Hold him, not just my cold teddy bear. Friday always came slowly. I would watch the minutes tick by. Classes would finally come to an end, only to have another waiting. Like they didn’t know I was in a hurry to get a fix. Never knowing what time he would get there. Would he surprise me at lunch or would he barely make dinner at 5:00. How I hated that clock. Teasing and taunting me. My heartbeat would rise. I would pace the floor. I would tap my foot. This addiction was slowly killing me. There he is down the hall! Oh thank you. It’s Jason! I can breath again.
But now, 10 years later. So much has happened. Life gets so busy. The kids are playing loudly. They are hungry. Is all the homework done? What is planned for tomorrow? Did the drier go off. What’s that smell? Did I forget to pay any bills? The trash needs taken out. Oh my what is that sound? It’s the sound of the garage door opening and his car pulling in. He’s home!! Like a drug pulling me to greet him at the door. Jason. I can breath again.
I love you.