• I'm not one to complain about my life at all, no matter how terrible things may get, and no matter how rough they may become. I'm also not one t stay down for the count when my emotions get the best of me. Me? I'm a foolishly strong kind of person, right up until either I break down in the privacy of my own home, or just totally shut myself out from the world around me. I blame that all on my defenses.

    Today is one of those days where I'm hitting some pretty fierce turbulance in the thermals of my life. Three times today, Shawn has called me, and three times today, I've let my answering machine take his calls for me. I've no interest in talking to anyone right now. I just want a little bit of time to gather my thoughts about the day. That, and today is just one of those days where I'm finding it easiest to just shut the world out.

    If there was any one person I would talk to today, it would be Randal. Why? Well, because I miss him. Because I need to talk to him. He's the only person that can break this mood of mine. I miss him. So lazily, I'm going to flop down on our bed and hope that some of his warmth is still trapped in the black satin sheets we tangle ourselves up in. It's a pity to discover that there's none of his warmth. Just the familiar scent of him.

    Almost instantly, my eyes well up with tears. I swallow back my want to cry and fail. I fail hard. This round, my emotions swallow me whole, and the tears leak from my eyes. My emotions hold me so tightly in a trap that I can't escape from. Who knew that the power of loving someone so much could be so strong?

    This is the point where I feel weak, defeated, and trapped. I feel so small laying in this bed, wanting him to be there with me. Missing the strength in just having him near me. I feel so lost in this house without him here, and even though he's only been gone four days, it still feels like a lifetime. I'm losing my mind, and I can't stay in this bed; somehow I have to get up and move. So I force myself up.

    Heading towards the living room, I stop in the doorway and allow a memory to grab onto me in the same way that entanglement of emotions did. It puts just enough pressure on my heart to make me stop dead in my tracks and let me fall off into the distant land of silly memories. Two weeks ago, Randal and I were in this living room, chasing one another around in nothing but our underwear, with the shades thrown back. It's not like anyone could see us anyway. The house we live in is a loft.

    Somehow, our little underwear romp ends with us in a tangle on the couch, out of breath, and laughing so hard that our sides hurt. The watercolor painting in my mind starts to run when I open my eyes, and for a moment, I feel lost again. The pretty little daydream that kept my mind busy comes to an abrupt end, and once again, I'm in tears. This s**t doesn't get any easier.

    Suddenly there's a sharp ringing noise escaping the back pocket of my jeans, which scares the crap out of me. Almost as instantly as the tears started falling, they stop. I pull the phone from my pocket and look at the numbers on my screen. It's my father. And suddenly, I realize that Shawn must have called him to tell him I wasn't answering the phone. Because I don't want to talk to my father, I hit the ignore button. I'll apologize to him later.

    Casting my eyes to the couch, I take note in the messed up pillows. Randal and I never straightened up the living room before he left. The pillows are all messed up, and the dark green fleece blanket over the back of the couch is bunched up and nearly pulled off. My brain goes off in another one of those little watercolor dreams, and for a moment, I swear to Allah or whoever stands above me in the clouds that I can feel him wrap his arms around me. One arm rests around my waist, and the other one... The other one goes left hand to my right shoulder. I can feel the pressure of his arm against my chest again, and then the soft series of kisses he lays up my neck.

    My eyes flutter open. I never knew they'd had time to flutter closed. Heavily, I sigh and continue my way through the house, trying to stop those paintings from forming in my mind. It's been four days, and it feels like a lifetime since he left on that goddamn trip. It hits me again that I hate being alone in this house, without him. This house is not a home without him here. Home is supposed to be where the heart is, and so long as he's not here? This isn't home. It's just a place where I exist until he gets back.

    How sad is that? I'm acting like I can't live without him. But then again, I also know how hard my life sucked without him in it. A sharp sound of tings and tinkles turns my attention back towards the living room. My eyes rest on a music box that Randal and I got when we first were married. I swear, the thing only plays when the house is too quiet. It's possessed. It plays the familiar song from mine and Randal's wedding; the song that we had our first dance to.

    For a moment, I really just wanna kick Shawn square in his a**. He's the reason I have that box. The reason Randal and I have it. He gave it to us the day we started our lives as one. I can remember everything about the wedding, from the time I saw Randal's eyes tear up while we exchanged vows, to the time that Shawn had his little speech and told the entire reception that Randal and I have a love that's one of a kind.

    But following those little things in my mind, comes another one of those watercolor memory paintings. I'm shocked my brain wants to throw this one at me, because this memory is better than three years old. My eyes go to the door-frame in the kitchen, and suddenly, I start laughing. That particular door-frame saw a touch of sin. Shaking my head, I remember his hands tickling my bare stomach.

    But enough of that memory. That one goes a little too far for me to be telling anyone about. At this point, I'm laughing so hard I'm crying, but it's a good cry. It's been four days since he left on his trip, and already it feels like a lifetime. My sides hurt, but the laughter is starting to subside, and reality starts to set back in. It's so sad how much I miss him. It's only a business trip. I know he'll be home in a few days, but I'm so impatient. I really just want him home now. I could see this sort of thing happening after a week. But four days?

    I start thinking though, that a lot of this has to do with the fact that I'm not used to him leaving on business trips. I'm so used to him being right here with me. I should really get over that, because we both have lives, and we've both got jobs. I'm pretty sure he's had his nights where he's felt like this too. Taking a deep breath, I bring my right hand up to brush the bangs away from my face and stop instantly.

    My eyes fall on the half tattoo that's on my right wrist. For a moment, I want to go back to crying, but I don't. Suddenly that heaviness of being alone in this house is lifted, and that want to cry goes away. I let the fingertips of my left hand brush the ink, remembering the night that Randal and I sat in the chairs at the tattoo parlor on my last birthday.

    We wanted something that would symbolize togetherness.

    We went with a yin-yang. It makes me remember that even though he and I aren't currently standing side by side, we're still one. In my head, I can picture the image completed when we hold hands. It makes me smile. And smiling is something that I really need to do right now. It's not the end of the world. It's only been four days. And it's not a lifetime.

    One more time, my cellphone rings, and I look up. It's a ringtone that only one person in my phone book has. My heart skips a beat. I know who this is. Pulling the phone from my pocket, I smile wide and hit the answer button. A voice on the other end of the line kills the darkness that was shrouding me. "Can you do me a favor?" the voice asks.

    I whole-heartedly agree to.

    "Open the front door and take a step outside."

    So I do. And when I do, my jaw drops, and my phone falls from my hands. Instantly, I start crying again. But it's not a bad cry. It's one that screams happiness. Randal's home.

    Four days. It's not a lifetime.