Time

Sometimes you prep for the worst, and even though your mind is ready, your heart will never be. Your heart misses a beat when the unexpected news is shared that sends you into a whirlwind of emotions. But more than anything else, your heart is sad. Sad to hear this news, as a tear slowly drifts down your cold dry face. Your hand is numb from the wintry weather as you hold the phone to your ear, but you don’t even care because you’re clinging onto the words on the other end of the phone.

It was news we had prepped ourselves for in September when my husband accepted his new position, but a reality we denied ever coming true. His work hours for two months will make it rare for our paths to cross. 17:00 - 1:30 working hours, with Monday and Tuesdays off. It couldn’t be more opposite of my schedule. Wednesday - Friday, I truly won’t see him, except for if we go out to lunch. It’s a whole different world we are about to face.

My heart aches for our missed time together and is saddened by this disruption. What makes it particularly hard for me, is the fact that my love language is quality time. The key word in there being quality. What this means is we will have to be that much more intentional about spending the precious time we have together. Carving out the time we spend, and prioritizing it above so many other things. To add to the mix, I will be out of the country for my job for 3 weeks during the start of this new schedule. Now adding in complications of how on earth do we keep our dog on a sane schedule while ours is in chaos?

I know we’ll get through this. I know this will make our marriage stronger during this (hopefully) short season. I know this isn’t permanent. I know we’ll look back on this time and find so much comfort in where we are now and having been through that time together. But today is my day for being sad. Thank you very much. And dammit, I am going to be sad. I’m mourning our missed time together. The Saturday mornings sleeping in together with walks on the Katy trail, with Starbucks clutched in our hands. Friday nights sitting by the fireplace getting tipsy off of champagne to celebrate - just because life is worth celebrating. Sunday mornings braving the early hours to find the courage of dressing up and sitting in the church pews together. Dinners with friends circled around our table laughing as we refill their wine glasses. I mourn these missed potential memories.

Because truly, I’ve learned, that is the most precious gift we have together on this earth. Time. Time to sit in each other’s presence with no agenda. Time to laugh, time to explore this beautiful world. Time to eat a meal together around the table over a bottle of wine, with our cell phones tucked away in the other room. Time to be silly, time to be intimate. Time. Time is the most precious gift we hold, and the gift I value giving Brandon more than anyone. The gift I promised him on our wedding day and for the rest of our beautiful lives together.

I sit here on this cold day in Dallas. The sun slowly peeking out on the horizon, and still, there is a lump in my throat while I write this. I’m reminded how much I love this man, and how much our worlds have grown together. For the better. How much my heart is entwined with his. It’s not just me who is mourning my own selfish reasons of this new schedule we’ll have to face - I mourn also because he is sad. He’s my people. He is my family.