Bedtime Sounds

Photo by Pictr 30D

I look to my watch for the date: credit card paid on time two days ago. Why does it feel as if I’d made that payment last week? I realize my internal clock is off, proof that the wait is indeed a cruel adversary. It seems that two days now translates into more than a mere 48 hours.

I find this experience so uniquely torturous and perplexing. To be “with” Chris is painful, but to be without him is unimaginable. I have a newfound respect for the individuals that have been doing this all the days and years I’ve had my head in the sand.

Sitting on my stoop, I listen to bedtime sounds: a symphony of crickets and cicadas playing into the evening sky. I wonder what Chris hears each time he lays down to rest. Are the foreign insects as loud? Is there incessant chatter from sleepless soldiers? Or does an unquiet mind keep him awake? These questions will remain unanswered until we speak again. How I hope he finds time enough to reach out when he's finished wandering the desert in places kept secret. If he does, I’m sure these questions will be much too wasteful to ask.