Persephone in brief

So I was reunited with The Boy about nine days ago and completely lost any inclination to blog. There is nothing quite as miraculous as that feeling you get when the person you love is suddenly there right in front of you in a place which you are reconciling yourself to being exiled to (albeit voluntarily) for half a decade. Being enveloped in the achingly familiar smell of Black XS, leather and Djarum smoke and hearing the words "Hey baby" being uttered in your ear in person for the first time in two months is like coming home.

But this sort of homecoming also brought with it an aching sense of homesickness and a sudden, terrifying awareness of the fragility of what I have with The Boy, and this coupled with a raging bout of the flu, had me moping around in a blue funk for a first couple of days before antibiotics and some wise words from The Other Cat kicked in.

I haven't been this happy in months.

Seeing The Boy off at the airport makes me think of Persephone. I feel like that, except that she at least had two-thirds a year in the sunlight, and I'm tied to my dream instead of married to Hades. But I have sacrificed things I hold dear, and though it is something I have voluntarily submitted to (and though everyone says that the dream is priceless), I still yearn for my time above the ground, in the sunlight.

It's only been a few hours and I already miss my partner in crime.