Eight days have gone by. I try not to worry, or even to think too much. It's easy to get worked up when all you have is your imagination. Much harder to take concrete information and turn it into something else.
I check the weather to make sure no major storms have moved through. It's supposedly sunny, 55 degrees, however, it's common knowledge that weather in-town never really reflects the mountains. Silence can be such an annoyance. It feels almost intentional- this distance- this disconnect- although it certainly isn't.
I think the only way is to remember what it's like when he is here. To acknowledge and then store that information somewhere in the back of my mind; to hold onto the sunshine, and be fucking patient.
