A friend once described me as "crying over milk that hasn't even spilled yet". I wish I could protest that that was exaggeration. But it isn't. It is so apt that it is even on my Facebook page. And we all know how important that makes it. We always, as students, when reading a book or a story, whatever it may be, try to figure out something about the author's life to put that piece of writing in some kind of personal context. Here's my personal context: My boyfriend is in basic training for the army reserves, and we have spent 37 minutes on the phone total since he's been gone (nearly 2 months), and I get his letters when Umass mail deigns to deliver them, and he gets mine when there isn't an army-imposed embargo for some delightful reason like, "one of you might get a distressing letter from home and since we're working with live fire we're worried about suicide".
He called Sunday. It's funny how when you have to give an oral report for 10 minutes it seems like eternity, but when you only get 17 minutes to talk to the one person you really want to talk to it goes by in a flash. After we hung up, I was so mad at myself for not asking why his voice sounded kind of different. Why did his voice sound different? I asked myself at 1:30 in the morning and again today starting at 9:30 AM. Is it some cold that the army is ignoring? Will it turn into a flu? Is it pneumonia and he just has no idea? Was he just trying to sound all tough with all of the other soldiers and drill sargeants around him? If it were just him and me would his very deep voice have taken on that sweeter quality he sometimes gets for me? Is it allergies? I have claritin in my purse, but what use is that when you just aren't here?! And I forgot to ask in the letter I already sealed, are you sick? is it just that you're not used to the southern flora? were you trying not to cry?
But last night, amid the worry, amid waiting for the glass of milk to be put a little unevenly on the edge, I was looking up tree kangaroos. I had sent him a national geographic picture of one, asking, "isn't this cute?" Upon my further research into "what exactly are they" I realized that there are ten different kinds, all fabulously adorable. Distractingly so. And for a moment, I had a feel-good feeling. And forgot.
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2 comments:
I'm working with a long distance relationship myself, though we don't have to suffer through nearly as many restrictions as you two do. But I can feel where you're coming from. (Although I think anyone should be able to feel it too; your writing is so frank and expressive.)
-Laurel
Distance is hard, and while it does in fact make hearts fonder, it also can make them, well, distant. I've had the experience of not recognizing the person on the other end of the line, of not being able to remember how we fit together, how we communicate, when the pressure is suddenly on to "communicate love right now(!)" and maybe not for a while after that. It's hard. It's all hard, except when it's not.
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