Mel:Norm

4 Years

Today marks four years with the same man. Four years of ups and downs and sideways movement and everything in between. We’ve been through good and bad, life and death, living together and long distance.

I have learned over the last four years that love is a choice. You choose to fall in love. Youchoose to stay in love. Youchooseto make your love important. You may not always choose who it is that gets your heart, and you in no way have the choice if someone loves you back, but deciding to wake up every day and continue to love someone is sometimes the best and most difficult choice. Since I am someone who has a hard time making decisionsfor anything, I felt this was very relevant:

I am in love with my compliment. Discounting the “important” issues, he is a man who does not like Disneyland or Disney movies for that matter (so crazy, right?). He thinks most romantic comedies can line the wastebaskets for the worst  movies ever. Harry Potter and Hunger Games have no effect on him. And country music happens to be a no go territory. But he listens, he makes me laugh, and his understanding of me is greater than anyone else I know. He supports me always, even in the moments I may make him a little crazy, which I know for a fact happens to be a lot.

I love him more than anything, and though I can’t spend our day with him, I am blessed to know that I got an entire weekend with him last week, which rarely happens with his work schedule. He has six years of my interest, four solid years of my heart, my thoughts today, and my future. Happy Anniversary!

Valentine’s Day Rewind: 2008

When you’re single, you tend to tell yourself and anyone that will listen that Valentine’s Day is the most hated day. That it’s stupid. That it doesn’t deserve to be celebrated. This, ironically, is especially true for those of us who are hopeless romantics. Which I just so happen to be.

And this is exactly what I had been doing. Valentine’s Day was pointless, I had told him days earlier. Having dated briefly the previous year and just recently starting to spend time together again, it was my way of telling him that it was stupid if you didn’t have someone to spend it with. Someone who wanted to spend it with you. On top of all this, I was really sick.

The night before Valentine’s day, in my worn-in grey Cal Poly sweatpants and head covered by the hood of my black Cal Poly hoodie, I sat curled up on the couch with a box of Kleenex and the remote in hand. My doorbell rang and, not expecting anyone, was surprised to see Carlton on the other side of the peephole. I let him in and he followed my huddled, blanket covered figure back to the couch.

I know how much you hate Valentine’s Day. So I figured I would come today, since it’s technically not Valentine’s Day until tomorrow.

He held out his hands. In one, a rose. One of my favorites where the colors are almost that of a sunset, fading from yellow to gold to pink. In the other hand, a large can of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup. 

I had told him I hated Valentine’s Day, when in fact I just didn’t want to feel the loneliness every single girl associates with the day. In reality, I love Valentine’s Day and any day that celebrates love. But I have to admit, at that moment, I loved February 13th so much more.

Most at Christmas Time

Everybody’s laughing
The world is celebrating
And everyone’s so happy
Except for me tonight
Because…
I miss you
Most at Christmas time
And I can’t get you
Get you off my mind
Every other season comes along
And I’m all right
But then I miss you
Most at Christmas time

I never thought distance would be this hard. Though, to be honest, I never thought distance would be this long. I believed when I left that I would be returning with two months, not living without a job prospect after six. He has never been a phone person. I can only continue a conversation so long. He has never been the most affectionate person, especially verbally. I need to hear from 350 miles away that I’m still important. We understand each other sans words when we’re together, but no words during a telephone conversation does not a telephone conversation make.

I know that Christmas is over, but it is still technically the holiday season. If nothing else, being home for the holidays, however much I both appreciate and enjoy it, makes me only miss him more. I find moments where I feel so incredibly lonely. So much so that my heart aches as if it had aged 60 years and stiffened up when the air blew cold. Holidays are a time you want to spend with people you love and, this year, I don’t get to see one of great importance.

The next time I see him won’t be until I next visit Los Angeles, and I still don’t know when that will be. But I know it won’t be for New Year’s, so I’ll be toasting him from afar wishing he was here to kiss me at midnight. I miss you most at Christmas time.

(Side note: Had a wonderful Christmas spending time with my family. And I got some wonderful presents, took some ridiculous pictures, and ate fabulous food. Overall, a great day)