Pixie's Other Half is back from the war. It's not as simple as it sounds...
I felt the fibers that held us together stretch and break as I got into my car and drove away, never looking ahead, only into my rear-view mirror as he stood on the curb and waved good-bye. Hand raised, motionless until he disappeared from my view. I remember the days that followed were filled with anxiety and physical illness. Somehow inside of me there was a part that knew what followed was going to take everything I had and then some new parts of me that I didn't just yet recognize or know I was capable of incorporating into... me... him... us... we.
And now he's coming home. I love him. I love him as deeply as I ever loved him. The moment I met him I knew we would have a long history together. I wonder... has he healed of me? Has my internal, constant, looping "pep-talk" to be strong, stronger, stronger, heal and grow made me incapable of having a normal relationship with him? Do we even still like one another despite the love?
...Which is perfectly normal for those who have a loved one in the fight. The servicemember isn't the only one who sacrifices...
