At about this time yesterday, it seemed fairly certain that Tyson would not be leaving for Switzerland at 8 this morning. The airline said they could reschedule for Saturday evening, and we were pretty sure that was our Plan B. So when we finally got a call at 5:07 a.m. from the post office telling us his passport had arrived, we had about an hour to get out of the house, pick up the long-awaited package, and get him to the airport.
It was actually good, in some ways. It all happened so fast that neither of us had time to get all sad and sappy. It signaled an end to a lot of worry, stress, and frustration. Yes, having another few days together sounded nice, but they would have been filled with stress and resentment and not really all that pleasant.
On the other hand, it meant that he spent our last day together for a month on the phone, pissed off at government bureaucracy, while I played on the computer, trying to stay out of the way.
It's getting to be close to bedtime now, and, while it's fun to be independent when the sun is out, this is the time of day the house feels the emptiest. Miss you, baby.
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