It’s Valentine’s Day eve.
Tomorrow is my sixteenth wedding anniversary. I’m writing this today because I’ll be busy tomorrow. You see, the day after, February 15th, my wife leaves for Costa Rica. She’ll be gone six weeks as she flies her corporate flag and does what she does best, which is train people to be better at their jobs.
We’ve lived together for nearly 17 of the 18 years we’ve been together, and I can’t remember a time we’ve been apart for so long. I don’t think it’s happened yet. There’s been weekend sojourns, of course, where she’s gone somewhere or I am, and in the last year or so, we’ve both made trips of a week or so to other places. But this is six weeks, man, six fucking weeks. I’m worried.
And before anyone gets all confused and asks me, “Are you going to be okay?” let me answer by saying, “I’m a grown fucking man and I can parent my children, go to work, grocery shop, have a social life, and otherwise function like the adult I am.”
I’ve done these things before, and everyone lived, so if you’re one of those people wondering how a man can do this, you can relax. I got this handled.
I’m not that kind of worried.
When I say I’m worried, it’s more of a concern simply because my wife isn’t here, she’s not accessible to me in the ways that she normally is. It’s going to be weird, folks, just plain weird. I’ve wondered if her absence will make me have “ghost wife” syndrome, where I feel her even though she’s not here? Will I hear her voice telling me to pick this up or put that away, you know, how she does. “Chris, is that fucking book done yet? Then why are you fucking around on your Xbox?”
Her prior trips to California were still in the U.S., and we had constant contact via text message, phone call, Facebook, all that. Going overseas more or less limits that greatly with Verizon’s shitty international calling plan. Very little talk minutes, data, and text messages. So it’ll be Skype when she’s in the hotel, and that’ll only be after work, and only for so long before she’s going to bed or we’re going to bed here.
Plus, Brownies, it’s Costa fucking Rica. I expect her to be on the beach, in the shops, and otherwise vacationing like a boss.
With all that said, Happy Anniversary to my wife, and I wish you well on your trip, baby. You’ve got that shit handled, like a boss.
I’ve got this shit handled, also like a boss.
Here’s to us.