My wife went to visit her parents this weekend. And although she was only gone one day, I noticed that I was a profoundly different person without her around.
The whole day, it felt like I was in an emotional void. I didn't feel sad, I didn't feel lonely...I just didn't feel much of anything. I watched television listlessly. I worked on class lesson plans in a trance. I stared at the walls. I absently played stupid video games. I felt bored, and everything seemed slightly, vaguely pointless. Events occupied my time, but that's all they did. I knew, as I went through my day, that I would not be able to either remember a single thing I was currently doing, and I knew that nothing of significance was happening, could happen, would ever happen.
When I heard her car door close, it felt as if someone had turned a light on in my head. The world blossomed from sepia tones to technicolor. The sight of my wife walking up to the door turned on my emotions. Suddenly, everything was fun and interesting again. The world was a place to see, feel, and experience, not just somewhere to inhabit. Things made sense. Life was good.
Having Lori around is the difference between wondering why I should get out of bed and wholeheartedly wishing I could spend the next few hours looking at her sleep, waiting for her to awaken just so I could hold her tight and feel her breath on my chest. Just feeling her body heat next to me, as we went to bed, made me feel good about the world, made me hopeful, made me dream happy dreams.
I know I'm not doing this justice, and I wish I could truly say how much having her with me means...because I suspect that it's the most important thing in the world...