the Sunday feeling

We last left our pair on a stroll through Kensington Gardens en route to food.This post isn't going to be about the gardens. You don't need me to explain how beautiful the Brits keep their grounds-- we all know an English garden is tops. Plus, I didn't take too many photos of the many flower beds that dotted the green space so elegantly. I literally have more photos of squirrels than of flowers from the gardens on my camera. 

This post is about the feeling you get on Sunday night before work on Monday. When you feel anxious about what's ahead and feel a bit saddened that you have to wait a little while longer for the next weekend. 

Because, guys, I've lived with that feeling for over five years. And it's absolute shit. 

S and I have traveled to some very cool places together. We've seen landmarks, hiked up peaks, gone to sporting events, tried new foods, and been blessed with experiencing a lot together. The beautiful moments that exist thus far, however, are marked with the most horrible good-byes. Sunday feeling type good-byes. 

photo by S. Chattington

photo by S. Chattington

This time, it was especially brutal. This time we aren't sure when we'll see each other next. There isn't a "I'll see you in September" to mark the calendar with. There are no countdowns. Only hoping. Only messaging at odd hours, because time differences are a killer and work schedules are complicated. Only a long distance friendship and love that is without condition. 

I want to tell you what most people in long distance relationships of all kinds don't post on their blogs or Instagrams-- that they are hard and it can seem like the universe is cruel. I want you to know that I am not an expert at them. I want you to know that I feel lucky, but that being away from the person you love most in this world is not the easiest way to be in love. If I could have chosen to love someone not on the other side of the world, I would have. But you don't pick who you love, your heart does.  

I know people who think every one has the same love story. Girl meets boy and that's the end of it-- all without hoops to jump through or ditches to cross. And for many people that's how it goes. But that has not been my journey. My journey has been complicated and hard and beautiful and filled with compassion. 

And it has been undeniably worth it. 

People often ask about our relationship status for the sake of being nosey. What I answer with is this:  no one but the two of us may ever know the full ins and outs of us. 

We deeply believe ourselves to be the other's soul mate. And we have firmly held up to that over the last five years. I am not a gambler, but I would bet on us every time.

I share almost everything on this blog, but only a tiny fraction of what S and I have experienced and what we have endured has been posted on SLK. That is because some things are sacred. Some things are just for us. 

Our time together this trip was all too quickly coming to an end. I found myself in tears quite a few times throughout the evening, holding them back as best I could all while knowing we only had a half day left together come morning.  Then I'd be off to start my time in Laos and he'd continue his career growth traveling with a company he loves doing a job he is phenomenal at.

We ate Mexican at a place Simon suggested called Lupita where they make your guacamole at the table. We talked and laughed. We laughed so hard, in fact, I almost spit up my Corona. 

S wanted me to experience the Churchill Arms pub not far from where we were eating. We headed that way right as the sun began to set. The pub was packed, but we managed to sort out two seats in the middle of everything.  

Visually, the pub was stunning. The exterior was decorated with flowers and flags. The inside was filled with tea pots hanging from the ceiling and collective British memorabilia...and more flags, of course. There was even a cardboard cutout of Princess Diana I secretly wanted to nab. 

I could get used to this

I could get used to this

It was our last night together. We rode the tube back to our accommodation an, just as I had in Sydney last September, I kept my head on his shoulder the whole ride. I carried that Sunday feeling with me on the way. Two nights doesn't hardly seem fair, does it? But we had had the perfect day and we had another half day yet to be enjoyed.

What's more, we were together. And of all the countries I've been to and the adventures I've been on, together is my favorite place to be.  

Side note: the London Underground should really consider washing their windows for moments being snapped like this.