I feel like I've always been counting with you.
Counting the days since we met. The days since our first date. The weeks we had under our belt. Counting the good times. Counting memories made. The times we went on adventures.
Then, when you broke my heart my counting changed.
I would count the hours I spent mourning the loss of you. The days since I felt complete. The number of tears I shed that night.
Things seemed to mold into a new but different relationship. It lost some things, but over the months gained other things in turn. It had depth and passion. You were still my shoulder to lean on, my friend to call with good news or bad..... things were not moving forward or back, but were in a suspended state and I was happy.
I started to count how many days until you had to leave for this trip or that trip. I'd count the number of pictures and texts I'd get from different locations around the world.
Then the counting changed again. You weren't home 48 hours when you explained things would be changing again. I decided to take control, because it's the last thing I could really take.
It's been 6 days since I've seen you.
It's been 14 days since we spoke.
It's been 28 days since you knew I had a change of heart.
It's been 45 days since you've called.
It's been 60 days since I fell asleep next to you.
It's been 400something days since I should have walked away, with my heart still whole.
Maybe one day I will count the years since I missed you.
