19 days ago Davy came to visit me for his 21st birthday. It has now been four days since he has been back in The Netherlands. It hurts not being with him again, but this isn’t abnormal for a long distance relationship. The day he had to leave, Sunday, I cried on and off throughout the whole day. Before we left for Plymouth to drop him off for his Megabus, I sobbed my eyes out. It felt like my heart had been ripped out from my chest and smashed with a hammer. Repeatedly.
I think and know this time has been the hardest time realising he has had to go back. I know he’s finding it just as tough as I am. I hate waking up in my single bed, not being able to just roll over and give him a kiss first thing as he flexes his little adorable nostrils whilst he yawns. I look around the house thinking of everything we did together.
This is where we sat and ate dinner every day. This is the spot where we sat on the sofa snuggled up watching the first set of WC group games. That’s where I nutmegged/slide tackled/practised doing keep yuppies with him outside playing football in the garden. That’s where I’d sit on his lap as we would play Watch Dogs together. This is where we stood and hugged, and he repeatedly tickled me. I remember standing here watching Davy make me egg salad, or an omelette. Or when I sat on the sofa as he put plasters on my heels from the blisters of my new shoes I wore to his birthday meal.
