As the thick humidity of summer approaches, I can’t help but think of you coming home.

Not to my arms, but back to where we belong.

And as we tumble through the last stage of our youth, where we carelessly, effortlessly, and unknowingly fall in love with each other, I can’t help but think of the day when I get on that plane; you get in your car, and we both yearn for when we felt the moisture in the air stick our skin together.

And on that day I hope you realize you don’t want to leave.

You don’t want to put your car in drive. You don’t want to watch my jet trails disappear over the eastern horizon.

But we both know we can’t stop time. And we both know we can’t tell each other how we feel now.

That is why you scare the hell out of me.

Because I’ve learned after being in your life for so long that we don’t need each other all that much to live a good life.

But that’s also why I love you.

It would just make everyday a little bit sweeter knowing you’re there, 1500 miles away, with my name pulled up on your phone ready to press call when you’re walking home.

Just like you have always done.

Just like you always do.

Just like I always hope you will.