Go Lovely Go.

If you've ever spent time on the ocean you remember your body adapting to the rocking motion of the waves, so much that, when you stand on land it feels as if the ground is the one moving up and down. The past two weeks I've spent so many hours napping on Josh's lap, listening to his steady heart beat and the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Now, as I lay still at night I feel him. My pillow has his heart beat, my blankets move to his rhythm of his breath. As I doze in and out of consciousness there's a part of me that feels we're still together.

Josh and I shared a beautiful last weekend together. Friday night we stayed at the Marriott with some of his family and shared some "excessive indulgence" as he called it. As we sat next to one another and shared an incredibly expensive dinner for two, I looked into  my lovie's blue eyes, tried to tell him just how much I love him,  but as usual, just ended up crying. I woke to the ocean views, a snuggly bath robe and French macaroons for breakfast. From there we mixed things up and headed to a flee market, not exactly the five star resort we had just left. It was scorching, sticky and crowded. We most likely ate fry bread from an unlicensed restaurant. Josh bought a wooden bow and arrows, because he's actually twelve. Then he bought the both of us some of the sweetest fudge slices from Mount Tambourine.  That evening we had "dinner" at  Max Brenners Chocolatier, there we had a chocolate covered plate of Belgian waffles and thick Italian hot chocolate. Sunday was spent amongst our most precious loved ones, Josh's family. There was a Christmas dinner for lovie and I  while everyone could be together. We shaved Josh's luscious locks at a sorry attempt at giving him a mission haircut, the clippers we used didn't like to cut hair, it took nearly three hours and lots of tears welling in my eyes. 

Monday was the day I left my heart in Aus, we woke early to pack my bags and pray they'd be underweight. The ride to the airport is foggy. I didn't cry. Instead I  wrapped my arms around my darling, rested my head on his chest, and said goodbye to my world through the window. After checking my bag we made our way to the international departure gate. We planted our feet a few steps from it and simultaneously squeezed each other and let out a long sob. Not much was said. tears were streaming down both our faces we kissed and held one another and cried. The hardest part about saying goodbye is deciding when to finally let go, deciding which kiss is worthy of being your last, forcing your feet to walk in a direction your heart won't let you, deciding  if you should turn back and run to them, and if you do, hoping you carry the strength to do it all over again. 

I boarded in Brisbane and before I knew it I found myself in LAX.  In my hysterical sobs, sprinting down the terminal with only socks on my feet, trying so desperately to catch my last flight home. The flight we booked only gave me thirty minutes to clear customs and security before boarding the flight home.

My best friend Sarah picked me up, how grateful I am to her for spending her 21st birthday turning my devastating day into a more positive one. Lovie called me at the airport, between my 24 hours of insomnia and his phone call from a land of 3am neither of us remember the conversation. Only that it happened. Lovie perfectly describes my feelings now in a letter he wrote for my plane home,
 "Like ripping off a bandaid and feeling exposed, it's a time we feel raw and naked without each other"

Our relationship isn't an easy one, we are torn by distance, but we love each other with a passion most will never quite  understand. And with that we are worth every minute.  We're strong apart so someday we'll be stronger together.

I love my Joshua Peter. 

With Love, Lacey