It's really only been five days. Not long at all. It feels like a jillion years. And a million miles. We have been apart before. It's not like he didn't travel for work of whatever. I was fine. I missed him, but time passed quickly and he came home. He's not coming home this time. I don't know how long he will be away, which is, I think, the very worst part. I know lots and lots of people have it worse, spouses that are gone forever or are in war zones. I feel guilty about my heartache. But it does ache. So I wander around my life listening to angsty music, wearing giant sunglasses to hide my eyes. I am busy, busy, busy hoping I will have less time to think, to miss what is gone, to worry. Turns out I am an excellent multi-tasker. I don't know how to make this better, how to be stronger. I see women do this all the time with grace and patience. I can't seem to. I don't want to be good at this.