I go somewhere, for work or play, about twice a year. Usually for work, because I’m cheap like that.

And I always like it, I like to be away, to follow my nose driving somewhere new. I like to find places to eat that are more interesting than home, which isn’t at all hard. I like to read a book or do homework in my hotel room without everything else that should be done around the house hanging over my head. I don’t generally even mind eating out by myself. I ignore the stares and order what I feel like, and sometimes read the paper for a strange place.

I’m doing that now, for the second time this year. I’m off to school for some training, to collect me another license for my business. My mind’s alert enough to follow the class, and it seems to go pretty quickly.

I miss Junior though, which is silly; I wouldn’t be with him on a Tuesday night anyway, and especially not this week, as he’s off doing something else too. There’s something about this hotel, or maybe this class, that’s really reminding me of one about three years ago though, one right before I got dumped, when I felt the pull of home just as badly. There will be no dumping this time, but I really crave being with him and I can’t put my finger on why it’s more than normal. Most likely because he is off doing something fun, that I could have gone to with him if it weren’t for this class. I’d like to go have fun with him instead of being stuck (at my own choice) in a stuffy cold classroom learning about disinfection byproducts. I’d like to cheer him on, and go try new restaurants with him, or just curl up with him in the evening. The more time we spend together, the harder it is to be apart, it seems.

Love’s turning me into a homebody, and I like it. He’d be at work now anyway, but I’d sure like to hear him come in when he got off. I’d love to have to quietly crawl out of bed so as not to wake him up when he just got to sleep. I’d rather be doing the dishes and feeding the dogs and sorting laundry and shopping for a new mattress online and a hundred other things than sitting here with my mind free to miss him, and worry just the slightest that he’ll be OK on the road. Of course he will, but I’m just the slightest bit unsettled. I swear, my heart feels the distance. It’s only a mountain range and an hour and a half more than usual, but it’s there like the pull of the tide. I want to go home to my man.