Just a weekend...

Just a weekend... The phrase really doesn't do it any sort of justice. I have been in a long distance relationship for about 4 months and have had the chance to see Kevin 4 times since then. In some ways we are a normal couple: we talk on the phone every night, and go on dates when we get the chance. But in other ways we are not normal: I don't get to sit next to Kevin during mass, I don't get to hold his hand when hanging out with friends, and every time I see him, he looks a little different because of the time that's elapsed between visits.

It's not like we try to make the time between visits so long. Life makes it that way (jobs, school, limited vacation time, 5.5 hour drive, lack of funds). So when a visit does come, it is greeted with much anticipation and expectations. For instance, I know that the next time I see Kevin will be in 33 days. I'm a strong woman and doing great in life, but my best friend is miles away from me.

This past weekend was more than just a plain weekend because I got to look into the best looking green eyes. I got to feel someone play with my hair while I drove around town. I got to walk into Wal-mart holding his hand. I got to smack him in the arm when he made a comment I didn't like. I got to warm my feet under his legs when we sat on the couch. I was held in two big arms while we danced around the apartment. I got to have a ridiculous smile on my face all the time. I got to re-memorize the freckles on his face. I got to talk honestly and deeply. I got to grow closer to the man I love.

So while it may be just a weekend, it's what I live for and depend upon. A lot will happen in 33 days, but I will count down every day till I get just another weekend.