I'm counting the days on my mournful hands until my lovely Emma Lucy returns home.
She has been taken from me by Bosnia for the next nine months, and I'm already wanting to wallow from her absence in my life.
She has just been this radiating light in my life these past three years. I'm so thankful to have someone who will legitimately freak out with me about literature. I want to be so much like her in the way she expresses herself. Even if the world around her would view her expressionisms as dramatic and loud, I view them as exhilarating and beautiful. I love those moments when she is just so passionate about the topic at hand, and her voice grows louder and louder until her shyness overwhelms her and she says, "Just ignore me," or "I'm just a freak, sorry." I'm going to miss that.
Though she is putting on the "it's only nine months" face, I'm dying over here. Saying goodbye to her in Seminary last Tuesday was heart-wrenching. I just wanted to stay in that hug, and let my tears on her tiny shoulder be enough to fill those nine months that I won't be seeing her wide brown eyes, full of so much life and mischief. But it wasn't enough.
I wish it wasn't like this. I wish we didn't realize what we had until it's gone. I wish our hearts would mourn for our loved ones' presence, even if we know we'll be seeing them in a few hours. I mean, sure, we sometimes feel that way, but I wish it was constant, to the point where we just call and tell that person we love them and are always happy when they're around. I wish we would just openly express that to one another without any "awkward turtles"; I wish each person in our life, no matter how minuscule their impact, could just be aware that they are loved and appreciated by you.
Emma Lucy Bay, I LOVE YOU. I MISS YOU. MY HEART ACHES BECAUSE YOUR BEAUTIFUL LAUGH WILL NOT BE HEARD FOR A WHOLE NINE MONTHS. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU, GAW-JUS.
She has been taken from me by Bosnia for the next nine months, and I'm already wanting to wallow from her absence in my life.
She has just been this radiating light in my life these past three years. I'm so thankful to have someone who will legitimately freak out with me about literature. I want to be so much like her in the way she expresses herself. Even if the world around her would view her expressionisms as dramatic and loud, I view them as exhilarating and beautiful. I love those moments when she is just so passionate about the topic at hand, and her voice grows louder and louder until her shyness overwhelms her and she says, "Just ignore me," or "I'm just a freak, sorry." I'm going to miss that.
Though she is putting on the "it's only nine months" face, I'm dying over here. Saying goodbye to her in Seminary last Tuesday was heart-wrenching. I just wanted to stay in that hug, and let my tears on her tiny shoulder be enough to fill those nine months that I won't be seeing her wide brown eyes, full of so much life and mischief. But it wasn't enough.
I wish it wasn't like this. I wish we didn't realize what we had until it's gone. I wish our hearts would mourn for our loved ones' presence, even if we know we'll be seeing them in a few hours. I mean, sure, we sometimes feel that way, but I wish it was constant, to the point where we just call and tell that person we love them and are always happy when they're around. I wish we would just openly express that to one another without any "awkward turtles"; I wish each person in our life, no matter how minuscule their impact, could just be aware that they are loved and appreciated by you.
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