Remembering

It seems that for the last 8 1/2 months I have done very little thinking about living with Jack Bauer. Our life together during this time has been about communicating, chatting, IMing, doing the basic staying in touch with each other's lives. I haven't had to worry about literally stumbling over his shoes.

But that physical interaction, that physical presence is something that I must admit I really didn't consider until the day before Thanksgiving, the day he came home. I braved the crowds at the grocery store and I began to remember things I hadn't thought about for months and months. He likes pate. He likes Mi Mama's tortillas. He likes wheat beer with fresh lemons. He likes red wine. All things that don't make it into my care packages to him.

Now that we've had a few days together, the little things are coming back. The way he likes to fold some of my laundry. The way he just seems to get up in the middle of a conversation and put himself to bed. The way likes his eggs fried and likes blueberries in his waffles. The way he let's the doggies lick his fingers while he is eating dinner.

These are the precious little things that make him who he is but that 7,000 miles and months apart attempt to separate us from who we are.