Preemptive

How is it possible to miss someone so frickin' hard when they're literally right there?

How can I miss you so much, when I can glance over from my usual spot here by my little beacon and see you doing… something… on your front porch?

Why can't we have the sort of relationship where I could just walk over and say “Hey! What're you up to?” Never minding the late hour.

Why can't we have the sort of relationship where I can just call you anytime I feel like having a chat? (Let's just ignore for a moment that I always feel like having a chat with you…)

Even if we never touched, even if we never spoke those three words out loud (as if they were enough, anyways).

Why can't we just be much bigger parts of each other's lives? Even while staying on the “correct” side of the line? Yes, we're doing more things together (and yes… you'd best believe I'm looking forward to “watch on creepily” — hey man, your words, not mine — but I'm mostly looking forward to that dinner afterward… where maybe, maybe we'll get to talk some…). But why can't we do more?

Don't answer that, I know already. Too well.

I suppose I'm just feeling a bit melancholy because I'm preemptively missing you for this weekend. Camping just isn't the same without you. And the next few weeks…

Though, gosh… there is that one weekend, so very soon and yet so long from now… it won't be enough, it never is, but… it'll be nice. So nice. But then we'll be away again. And I have no idea what travel plans you might have, but this time of the year…

Yeah.

I'm getting ahead of myself, I know. But I miss you. Gosh do I ever miss you.

Yours in affection, forever.