Coming home...

About two days before I left what had been a busy and positive week in Royan my subconscious started to turn it's focus towards home. I began to feel nauseous and deeply sad. I tried to hide it. I needed to be in the moment with friends, with other players at the tournament and with people I was getting to know. I buried it. Like all emotions it found it's way out and now I understand what it was already aware of.

Coming home to Liane is a long since established part of my life. I often travelled without her - for work, with frisbee, for friends - and I always loved coming home to her. That first hug, the gentle kiss, the rush of experiences to share. She laughed at how I told her every detail in a chronological order. I laughed as her mind leapt from one story to another with a gleeful abandon. We enjoyed being together again, having missed the intimacy, the sharing, the warmth and the touch of each other. That's all gone now and I don't know when passing through Dublin airport will get any easier. I don't know when disembarking the Aircoach by the church will feel normal without her there. I don't know how I'll walk in our door...

Of all the adjustments to my life this is one I'll struggle with repeatedly. Hopefully practice will blunt the edge of these feelings for now I'll cherish the memories. They're all I've got.