I wasn't supposed to but it just happened. He was at the airport and his family didn't answer so he called me.
Between each syllable could hear the ache in his voice. I know he could hear mine too.
It was the sound of a heart loving someone so much that it hurts. The sound of wanting to tell him to come home to me and the sound of both of us knowing that it can't happen. It shouldn't happen. It was the sound of his stiff lip telling me "have fun in college" and the bitter sound of silence as I tried to mask the emotion in my voice before responding. The imploding sound of not wanting to have to go through the heart-wrenching process of saying goodbye again.
I listened as I merged the call with his family's phone. I listened as the four year old told him to be good and that he misses him. I listened as the callused father asked him about logistics and flights because talking about anything else would hurt too much. I listened as the mother dutifully inquired if he had any thing that she needed to send him because, like me she just wanted to hear his voice. I listened as he asked his sister about her upcoming birthday and asked for a recap from a brother regarding his own party. I listened as the two new oldest boys talked about the extreme weather and tried to keep their composure over losing their lighthouse for two whole years. I listened as their phone clicked off, leaving me alone with him.
We talked for around three and a half more minutes.
They were infinite yet fleeting.
We said the same three words that we had said to each other for over a year, but this time they rang with something so powerful.
I saw every moment we had ever shared flash across the inside of my eyelids.
I knew with all of my heart that he meant it.
And he knew I did too.
And in those last three and a half minutes we felt some sort of solace in knowing that we would both be there for each other.
Whether it be together or apart, no matter what happens, we know we have each other.
Goodbye, again.
See you in two.
