It's been 10 long weeks of driving to the airport every weekend to drop off and pick up Bryan. It's an hour and half drive one way, and longer when I come home by myself to face a week of loneliness. The past couple weeks have been extremely difficult. My coworker quit; him and I were the backbone to the small business I work for. And now I'm alone to do his job and mine. It's been a struggle, as I tend to stress a little too much at times. Without my best friend to give me hugs, take me to lunch and reassure me each time I panic, I turn into a dreaded 'bagel'. But that's all behind me now. The end is in sight. California is finished; no more worrying about Bryan being stabbed going to work, or having his rental car stolen, or dying in a freak air crash. I've missed his presence here. He is my happiness. Last night when I picked him up at the airport, I was too excited. I hurridly cut off several SUVs in my tiny white Honda, to screech to a stop at the curb. I actually remembered to pop the trunk as I flung the door open and ran to hug him. The drive home was happy for once, as I knew he would be here for two weeks, before the final week is to be completed in North Carolina. I was so animated and couldn't stop chattering about anything and everything. I'm sure Bryan was overwhelmed, but his smiling face, and death grip on my hand let me know he had missed me as much as I had him. Even though it's cliche, the time apart helped us learn how much we rely on each other.
When I was a child, and my sisters and I had hurt my mom's feelings, my dad would sit us down and talk about how we had hurt his best friend. How would we feel if he had hurt our best friend? Those conversations stuck with me. The idea that my dad saw my mom as his best friend was wonderful. And I couldn't wait to find mine.
I found more than a best friend in Bryan, I was given a soul mate. And it's been difficult being apart for so long. I'm glad my best friend is finally home.
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