Across the Universe (Tomorrow Is Another Day...)

Across the Universe

For as long as I've known him, there has been distance between us.

First, it was the distance of friendship, when I wanted more. Then, after those first tentative steps beyond friendship, the distance of emotion. Suppressing feelings, proclaiming the casualness of each moment. Laughing at jokes, still secretly wishing for more.

Later, the distance of geography. Love can conquer all. All you need is love. That's what they say anyway. But we were young, and to us, the distance seemed insurmountable.

Next came the return of the emotional distance. Months going by without a word. Then, once more, baby steps back into friendship. Talking to each other about the most recent object of affection. Not really wanting to hear about them, but that's what friends do. They talk. Wondering to myself why every date fell so flat. Looking forward to that instant message or email that I knew would be waiting for me when I got back home.

The slow realization that the distance didn't seem like such an overwhelming obstacle. Realizing that it isn't the physical distance that keeps people apart, it's the emotional connection that keeps them together. Feeling closer to a person thousands of miles away than you do to the person who just dropped you off at home, leaving you with a stale kiss and a feeling of emptiness. Knowing exactly what joke he'll make, and silently saying the punchline with him in your head. The thrill of being surprised by a sudden insightful comment he makes when you think a conversation has reached its end.

There are times when the distance between us seems, once again, too overwhelming. When one extra day tacked onto a trip away from home feels like an extra year in Purgatory. But then, I still look forward to that instant message or email when I come home. Knowing exactly what joke he'll make, then being surprised by his ideas. That balancing act of security and excitement. Physical distance and emotional connection.

The worst moments are not when I count the miles between us. They aren't when he leaves for a trip or can't get to a phone to call home. It's the moments when I close my eyes and have trouble forming more than a hazy picture of his face. When I've thought of something I want to tell him and have forgotten it by the time we talk.

Eight years ago, I couldn't understand what I know now. Love isn't the amount of time you spend with a person. It isn't counting down the moments until you see his face. Love is feeling connected despite the distance. Closing your eyes and knowing that even if you can't picture him in your mind, you feel him in your heart.

Knowing that at the most inappropriate time, when it doesn't even fit the context of the conversation, he will say "That's what she said." And you'll say it with him. And you'll laugh. And you know that soon he'll be home, and for a least a moment in time, there will be nothing to conquer.