I sat in my living room the other night, it was after 10pm. Hubby had just arrived home with arm loads of bags. I was heading off for my weekend away {well two of the days} in the morning. It occurred to me, I wasn’t the only one. Hubby was packing for an adventure too. He had grasped the window of opportunity and was going fishing.

Gone fishing, that’s him.

In this arm loads of bags there were subway sandwiches {apparently making your own is too hard}, peanut brittle, mixed lollies, stacks of ice and some other random food type things. Or it might have been bait. That’s a lie, it wasn’t bait. That would be gross. But he had everything he would need, a huge grin on his face and a skip in his step.

I realised I was jealous.

Even though I was just as excited about my plans it annoyed me that he seemed so happy to be rid of me. Happy to be free for the weekend. Happy without me. Gulp. Uh oh. Here it is. They said it would happen. We were young. A blissful 10 years behind us, one or the other of us had to crack sooner or later. I always thought it would be me, let’s be honest. Even he thought it would be me.

OMG how could it possibly happen. THEY were right.

I glared at those sandwiches, screwing up my face in an ugly snarl. Softened it into a pout and said but won’t you miss me at all. In my cutest, most manipulative voice. Nah, he said. Probably about as much as you’ll miss me. Grinning at me through the cloud of happy that surrounded him. The snarl returned.

Could it be that we are happier separate these days? Has the weight of life and mortgages and grass on the white tiles finally pushed us over the edge? I took my snarly pout to the couch and thought about it. Thought about when I’m the happiest. When he’s the happiest. I sifted through memories of how it was, back in the day. 10 years ago. Were we happier before?

I think of nights when we would drive to the waterside and sit under the moon. Warm nights, cold nights, we loved them all. We would talk about everything in those days. I think there was more to say. Things to discover about each other. Endless nights and days of talk. I think it’s natural for those moments of discovery to fade, a little. They turn into rediscovery. Finding each other again. Daily.

Things deepen and change.

So I go and find him. I tell him that I hope he has an amazing couple of days. I tell him that I love him more now then I ever have. And that I can’t wait to spend some time out, some me time, too. Bugger off already but come back quickly, I tell him, I was being silly before. The simple fact is  I can’t wait to see him again Sunday. And I haven’t even left.

I know he feels the same.