"Sometimes I am glad when Henry is gone, but I'm always glad when he comes back"
                                                                                     - The Time Traveler's Wife

Sometimes I'm grateful for this life. I'm grateful for Virginia, to be here entirely and waiting. That we have this awesome adventure ahead of us, to have these amazing moments where time is irrelevant - where he stands before me after days and days of being apart and he is the most beautiful sight I have ever laid eyes on.

Sometimes I am glad to have apartment to myself. No limit of time. No pressure to have sex or give a damn. I can do whatever I want, whenever I want. Eat when I want. Sleep. Shower. Live. Sometimes I go to a bookstore and read for hours on end, and come home at midnight and stay up till four AM.
I am always, always, always happy to have him home. To see those crystal blue eyes, dark scruffy hair and warm face before me, out of harm's way. Having someone to sleep next to, to dream with, and to just be with. His absence is painfully obvious – the house is clean, half of the bed stays made, and bills get paid. Most days I would trade almost all of these just to be able to see him, just once.

I've gone through 9 months of medication trying to find stability without someone by my side. To find my appropriate in between. 150MGs of Prozac, 100MGs of Wellbutrin and 7.5MGs of Abilify are my daily doses. I still am at extremes - too little energy, too much. I have too much sad, not enough happy. More mood swings than ever before. I have to say, to not have to fight this battle alone, will have been well worth the wait.
I can picture his face. Actually, I can't. I can't imagine nine months of change, could you? I wonder if his icy blues eyes will be the same or if his features will have changed - the perfect smile, the distinct jaw line. The aura of happiness - that I have missed the most.  I have watched this person before me since I was 15 years old and some days I wonder if he will even come back to me a portion of the person he was when he left or if he will remember or recognize who I am. Add some tattoos, piercings, different hair and a weeklong vacation to California into the mix and he might not even recognize the person standing on the pier come this May. I wonder if he will still smell the same. I wonder if it's like looking at a completely different person, or talking to one.

I can't imagine what my life will be with him back in it. Nine months alone has been such a long time. I spent most of it working or sleeping – causing it to feel as if the time passed has been no time at all, but I know better. He left and I felt as if he had been taken away from me knowing he would be home a very long time from then. I have pictures of that day. It still brings little crocodile tears to my eyes watching the other ship salute them as they leave. Then to pass the pictures of my best friend and I – hands over our mouths, faces red, tears running down our cheek – sends me bursting into tears. Simply thinking about it makes my eyes well up.

I know the end is near, though. It will finally be over and it will be amazing. There will be smiles, tears and pictures. It will hopefully be warm with golden sunshine and I will see my husband walk towards me with a quickness so great it will close the nine month gap between us. Our lives will be intertwined again and life will eventually continue as if nothing happened at all.