A Girl...

It Feels Like the First Time

All is well in Love Land. It's my first day back at work in almost two weeks, and so far I've spent two-thirds of my billable hours on the phone with a certain someone. I even took the phone into the bathroom with me when I needed a pee break. (Good God, I have become one of those people!)

From what he said, he had a stupendous trip and spent a lot of good time talking with his mom on the plane, in the car, in the countryside, and in pubs populated with "old women who look and act and talk like the cast of Monty Python dressed up like old women." I'm looking forward to seeing his pictures and hearing the rest of his stories.

I'm also excited to see the loot he's returning with, beginning with "more tea that we could drink in two lifetimes." I also happen to know he stopped in Stratford upon Avon and bought me a Shakespeare-related prize, which is awesome considering Shakespeare is my "thing" as much as anything else is. And on top of the random gifty stuff, there's also Christmas to be had, so YAY AGAIN! I hope he likes what I got him.

Perhaps the best part of talking to him today, however, was just hearing his voice. We used to spend a lot more time on the phone with each other than we did in person, so there are all kinds of great memories wrapped up in holding his voice next to my ear while I twirled wistfully in my office chair. Did you know that absence, in addition to making the heart grow fonder etc. etc., also makes the finest details stand out in greater relief? His voice, for instance, generally has a very particular tone to it--a kind of smirking tone. When he talks he always sounds like he's grinning, sometimes on the verge of a laugh. Months of hearing it everyday had taken away some of its polish, but today I heard that lurking smirk clear and warm as a summer night.

When I see him tomorrow morning I know that everything else about him will be like new again. His eyes will look extra sparkly, his hair will be extra soft, his stubble will be extra stubbly. But I'll be able to recognize him. He'll be the one without any clothes. And I'll be the one with the mattress strapped to my back.