I am a fan of many things. I like Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. Avocado. Movies. Rain showers. Long, girly, giggly conversations. Hugs. Good ideas. Well-orchestrated events. Jeans. The color aquamarine.
I have a list of things I don't like, too, though. I don't like fighting with my mom. Spiders. Crows. Crow's feet around my eyes. Dark lip liner. Lima Beans. Tracey on this season of The Biggest Loser. Tornadoes. Ponchos.
There is one thing that I need to add to the "not a fan" list. It's something I'd never given a ton of thought to until about six months ago. I don't like distance. Yes, S only lives an hour and a half away, but when schedules are as different as ours, it feels like we're a continent apart. I miss him. I miss threading my fingers through his and seeing the warm light that shines from his eyes when he looks at me. I can't help but worry that he thinks I'm being pushy when I tell him I want to see him more. I can only hope that he sees it as what it is, though. A declaration of my love for him and a natural gravitation towards something that makes me so happy.