Thursday, March 8, 2012

missing kisses

I am deeply in love with my husband; the ache of his absence is tangible this week. When he travels, my lips miss him. The urge to kiss is nearly overwhelming. So far I’ve been able to resist the need to feel my lips against someone else’s, for which the random folks in line with me at CVS should be grateful. Ultimately, I remember that it is not just anyone’s lips that need to be on mine, it is Greg’s. I feel my love for him in my skin, not just in my heart. When we don’t touch for a few days my skin tingles, like when your foot falls asleep, not a pleasant tingle. I feel a physical absence when he is not near.

 I think of my mother a lot during Greg’s travel weeks. I know that my husband, the rest of myself, will return. My mother’s other self is gone forever. That tingle in her skin will never be soothed. The ache is more than just in the heart, it is on the lips, the skin. Your voice begins to ache, waiting to talk to him. You begin to go deaf, waiting to hear from him. The loss of your mate is a physical loss. How long before your lips adjust, until they stop longing for the kiss?

I am counting the days until Gregory returns, while my mother is counting the days since she last held my father's hand. There are no words to describe the difference. I want never to truly know the difference.

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