Math has never been my strong suit.
When I was in third grade and learning long division, I often feigned stomach aches so I could stay home from school and avoid exposure to the evils of mathematics. When I had to take placement tests for math and English senior year (Yes, for financial and maturity reasons, I went to a junior college instead of a university after graduation, thus the placement tests) I scored a 90% on my English exam and a 41% on math.
What can I say—numbers are a bit befuddling to me.
Yet as I went to bed last night, and again this morning when I woke up, I found myself trying to crunch them. One visit per month for five months times an average of 4.5 days equals Mr. W and I seeing each other twenty-some odd times from now through June.
Tomorrow morning, Mr. W leaves me for a movie shoot in Vancouver.
This isn't our first rodeo. We were apart for more than two straight months in 2011. And in 2009, our average gaps between time together was about 6 weeks. Because this latest location is just a 3-hour flight away, travel will be easier and more frequent. But I still have a sinking feeling about his departure. I want to fake a stomach ache so maybe he won't have to go.
When I force myself to see the upsides of this long division between us, I recognize that I'll get to do some great traveling and have some delicious Canadian seafood and maybe even hit some of Washington's hotspots for wine-tasting. Being apart means a little adventure is inevitable. We'll even get to meet each other in Hawaii when part of the shoot moves south. And it's likely I'll be able to keep the house a little cleaner and have more time to work on coaching endeavors over the next six months.
But oh, the hundred-plus days we'll be separated by a country's border feel like too many. The spans of time and distance feel so vast, I'm not even sure my fancy Texas Instruments graphing calculator could accurately compute them.
