“Ugh!” I said out loud as I washed my face. It was so very small but I could feel it – the kind of pimple that you just KNOW is going to be a bad one before it has really even started to form.
“Seriously?” I thought to myself. I pulled the tube out of the cabinet and dotted the green goop onto that one spot. Then I felt another spot that maybe, just maybe was thinking about forming another one so I dotted there too. And then another. And then eventually I squeezed the green mask into my fingers and covered my entire face.
“RRRRRIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGGGG!!!” I grabbed the wet towel and wiped the grossness from my hands. I passed from the bathroom to my bedroom, scooped the phone up off the bed and tried to not press it against the drying putty on my face.
“Hey!” I hadn’t expected his call tonight. His schedule had been growing fuller by the day and he had warned me that he would not be calling until later tomorrow.
“Hey … you sound surprised.” Well, duh, I was surprised. Why is it that the times he says he won’t call always seem to be the times that he does? And the times that I am expecting a call always seem to be the times that the phone never rings? “Weird question,” he continued. “Do you remember my Skype user name?”
“No Way!” I blurted out. “No Way!” I repeated over and over again in my head. Is it possible to be mentally telling yourself to not get your hopes up (and to really think that you have a grip on it) while having your heart race in absolute anticipation at the same time?
“Way!” he said making fun of my response. “Look up my username and email it to me. I will be on in a minute.”
Of course this would be the time I would look like I had green frosting caking my face. To wash it off or to keep it on? Why was I taking time to think about this? “Make a decision, Megan!” Was I talking to myself now? Surely I could still think straight. I soak the washcloth in warm water and rush back to my laptop.
“Hey!” I heard his voice but I couldn’t see him. The screen was a black box where his image should be. This was NOT happening. In half-an-instant my exploding heart thudded to a stop.
“I can’t see you,” I moaned. There it was that “don’t get your hopes up” that hadn’t been able to reason with the racing of my heart seconds earlier.
“I can see you,” he said back – trying to keep his voice calm as he processed my own sadness. I half-smile – at least glad for that.
I have not seen my husband’s face in over four months.
Correction: I had not seen my husband’s face in over four months. ; )
“I SEE you!” the words burst from my mouth before my eyes could truly process. Of course my eyes couldn’t process it – I couldn’t see. There were too many tears pouring from behind my lids. “I see you. I see you. I see you!” I could not say anything else. He laughed.
Seeing his head cock back and his mouth widen and his teeth shine while my ears heard the same laugh I have only heard over the past several months took my breath away.
I could see him. I could see the smile that I so deeply miss and see his eyes brighten and his face glow as he felt the same thing I felt. We could see each other. Without any reasoning I pressed my fingers to the screen. I could see him.
And it may seem trite – to become so overwhelmingly emotional over something so basic, so natural. To be able to the see the love of your life. To be able to see a laugh that for so long had to be remembered from past laughs as it could only be heard. To see his laughter.
To see the joy. To see the hope. To see the complete object of one’s affection, one’s life, one’s world.
To see a laugh.
It’s like first sight.