Life, Love and Lemons…Episode 7
The hopeful prospect of 14 days has turned into 30…
… And counting.
That’s life when the intangible elements surrounding Brian’s return home added into the dozens and the probability of finding closure on even one of them is based on the intertwining dance with at least 3 or 4 others.
30 days, and uncertainty remains the only constant.
It’s become almost surreal in nature.
My surroundings haven’t changed an ounce; but my world has.
The overwhelming feeling of comfort to see his smiling face every morning seems like the most distant dream.
The scent of his skin leaving a glorious trail as he strolled from room-to-room in our house a ghostly memory.
His brilliant touch; a sensation I can create through closed-eyes only, a far-off envisage.
But what’s held us together and so terribly connected through this time has been something so incredibly unlikely….
We seldom talk.
And although counterintuitive in appearance, it has been one of the most romantic and stabilizing experiences of my life.
Neither of us are ‘phone people’.
Both fiercely independent.
A mutually shared passion for life and opportunistic-minded attraction to finding the prospects a given situation may present, rather than its potential for negative.
Ever the polymath, Brian has used the time in Chicago to reassemble his former performing arts group and chart a new course for projects that touch all of their artistic souls.
The group, ‘Bohemian Soul Revival’, just wrapped up filming last weekend on their latest venture (yes… and I do promise that a sneak peak truly is coming your way very soon!).
As for me, blogging and modeling has been keeping me incredibly busy over the past month – not to mention the fact that my Fitness Competition is only 7 weeks away and preparation for that is only intensifying!
Our collective schedules are a combination of tiresome, invigorating, passion-filled and chaotic…
… And have left a lot of holes in overlapped free-time within which we can chat.
But for us, it’s never been about the small talk.
The insignificant natter about daily life.
The insincere pleasantries.
It’s the texts I get midday that tell me how he and his crew just found the ideal location to shoot.
The poetic IM’s I receive at 2am instructing me to rub gently over the portion of the bed he’ll be filling again soon, smile and then fall back asleep.
The emails he writes reminding how distance is the fools’ prohibition to true love.
Communication is and forever will be the key to a successful relationship…
I miss my man terribly; but our shared zest for life, independent of each other, has made this experience entirely manageable.