No one told me that I would have nothing to say when I needed to say goodbye…that I, usually never loss for words, would think of literally nothing.
No one told me about the confusion my heart would feel, somehow both proud and completely terrified of what you were going to do.
No one told me I’d feel guilty for hating how excited you were to do the job you love.
No one told me that hugging you one last time would make me feel like I don’t hug you enough…or kiss you enough or even look at you enough. What was I doing with all of my time? What else was there to look at?
No one told me how hard it’d be to walk away from you…the agony of turning around and moving one foot in front of the other, step after step after step.
No one told me it takes so long for a ship to leave the harbor or that I’d get a sunburn from watching it go.
No one told me the sight of your toothbrush back home would make me weep uncontrollably.
No one told me I’d lay in bed that night remembering every harsh word I’ve ever said and every stupid argument I’ve ever started, wishing to goodness I could take it all back.
No one told me I’d miss your sneaky ways of setting the thermostat to Siberian Tundra temperatures, your snoring, and your 4 a.m. alarm.
No one told me I could love anyone or anything this much.