Taking a dip

When I opened my eyes this morning, I found two bright sparkly eyes staring right back at me. Big grin on her face. I can only guess at how long she'd been lying there like that, but for someone who'd only had 3 hours of sleep and about to face an 8 hour workday, she seemed surprisingly awake.

"YOU'RE HERE!!" she half-shouted at me, barely containing her excitement.

I smiled, felt a surge of happiness and nuzzled into her. Contrary to hers, my brain wasn't quite ready to kickstart the day yet. I folded my body into her and revelled in the snooze-time we had left before she was to start her daily morning routine.

As surprising as it may sound, it was a fabulously simple morning. Stuff other couples undoubtedly take for granted: Hearing her potter about the house and giggle along with Chris Moyles's Breakfast Show whilst she was showering and spiking her hair. The mad dash for clothes. And the strangely unrelated string of last-minute advises before she rushed out the door. "Cereal... eggs & tabasco too. Oh and yer Branston Pickles are where you last left 'em. Paper with directions to Tescos next to the bed. Will grab my bike to chiro when I get home. Take the starbucks in Borders, it may have wireless...".

I spent the day wandering her city without her. Browsed bookshops for hours, settled on their sofas with a choice selection and eventually bought them all, spending my entire months' bookbudget in one go. Watched people pass by the river Ouse alone or in groups, attempting to figure out what their excuse was for not being at work at 2pm on an idle Wednesday. Somewhat resentful that her city wasn't entirely mine for the afternoon.

Back home, stretched on the bed staring at the ceiling, her lingering scent set my tum aflutter. I contemplated what life would be like with her in it on a daily basis. Is it foolish to fear that I too would start taking all these little details for granted? That I would stop marvelling at the fact that her kitchen smells of bike-grease or that my heart would seize to jolt at the sight of the stack of New Scientist magazines on her toilet, dating back to the week we first met? Would I stop listening to her footsteps around the house? Would we still have talks that stretch way into the morning? And would our "hellos" become arbitrary rituals?

As naive as it may seem... I doubt that I could ever take Jo for granted. But these moments shed light on an extra dimension to our current situation. For all the downsides of a long-distance relationship, it forces you to take pause. To take notice. It stalls a naturally speedy process and allows you to savour it. One small, delicious bite at a time.