Have you ever noticed how absence has its own weight? It sits in the hollow of your coffee cup each morning, in the empty space beside you in bed, in the half-finished sentences that hang in the air. Sometimes I find pieces of you in the most ordinary places - in the song that's playing in the grocery store, in the scent of rain on concrete, in the way sunlight catches dust in the afternoon.
They say time and distance make the heart grow fonder, but they don't tell you about the beauty in the ache. How missing someone becomes an art form, how longing teaches you to find someone's presence in their absence. How you learn to hold conversations with memories, how silence becomes a language all its own.
In the space between here and there, I've learned that missing you is not just about the sadness of separation. It's about how love grows deeper roots when stretched across miles. It's about how distance teaches us to love not just the person, but the echo of them that lives in everything they've touched.
Every morning, my coffee gets cold because I forget to drink it, lost in thoughts of you. Every night, the moon becomes our shared confidant, carrying whispered "goodnight" across time zones. I've started collecting moments like seashells - tiny, perfect instances when I feel you closest despite the miles between us.
This emptiness has taught me that hearts are like gardens - they grow best in the spaces between. That longing is not the absence of something, but the presence of love so big it overflows the present moment, spilling into every hour we're apart. It's teaching me that sometimes, loving from afar lets us see the whole picture better, like stepping back from a painting to admire its full beauty.
So I wear this mark not as a reminder of distance, but as proof that love knows no boundaries. That some connections run deeper than physical presence, that some bonds grow stronger in separation, like roots reaching deeper for water in drought.
Missing you has become my most loyal companion, my gentlest teacher. It's showing me that longing isn't just about the pain of separation - it's about the miracle of loving someone so deeply that their absence becomes a presence all its own.
In this space between having and wanting, I'm learning that distance is just another way to measure love. And by that measure, my love for you spans universes.
