My Simon, My Saviour

I got my wisdom teeth out on Wednesday, and after three days of drug-induced haze and lots of pain, Simon came to me. It was so good to see him. I'd seen him on Tuesday for two hours, but it wasn't enough. I always crave more time with him. I was so miserable for the first few days that I begged him to visit, and he did. But how he came really isn't as important as while he was here.
We cuddled. We cuddled and cuddled. That's all I wanted to do, was hold and be held, and cuddle. We watched a bit of Asterix et les Vikings, and then put it away to just lie in bed together. He lies on his back, with me curled around his side, head on his chest, his arm around me. And everything feels safe. I feel secure, like nothing bad can happen. I didn't hurt. I didn't look like I had grapefruits stuffed in my cheeks from all the swelling. There wasn't blood pooling in my mouth. I was safe and secure, and everything was ok, because my Simon was with me and holding me. We rolled over and he spooned me, arms around me. So connected and so in love. And at some point we fell asleep, curled up together. And we slept. Some nights together we take turns waking up and rolling over and changing position, or getting up to go to the washroom or other little things. But this night, we slept soundly until 6. We got up for a bit and curled up in the recliner in the living room where I had slept the three previous nights. It was cozy. We went back to bed and held each other some more. Connected, together, in love, and safe.
At seven we got up and decided to make breakfast. We cook together so well. I come up with the ideas and start it, and Simon takes over because he's better (and fussier) than me. So I started pancakes, hashbrowns and omelettes. We all sat down and ate together before church.
We spent most of the day in bed. I took my painkillers and slept, with Simon beside me. He held me the whole time, covered me in a blanket, and held me. I felt safe to sleep, and comfortable and relaxed. I dozed in and out of my drug induced haze. Every time I woke, Simon was right there, rubbing my back or stroking my arm. He just watched me sleep. Nothing could be sweeter. I finally woke up, thoroughly cranky. He soothed me and calmed me down. We went out for a bit to get Dairy Queen (which has a lot less removed-wisdom-teeth-friendly drinks than you'd think) and came back for supper. After supper it was back to bed. The night was the best I can remember. We both just felt so intensely in love. I held him for a while, and then buried my head in his chest. I rolled him over and gave him a massage. And we were just together. We talked about our hopes, our dreams, our future. And they were all together. We don't have separate futures, we have one future together. And that's how we want it to be.
We cuddled and held until we fell asleep. We both woke up at times throughout the night, and cuddled and hugged, then fell asleep again. Most of the morning was spent in bed, cuddling and talking. We talked about our future together, our children. We discussed names for our children and how many we'd have. It was a realistic discussion, not at all theoretical "what-if-maybe-when-possibly" but just "when". When we have kids. When we get married, not if.
We had to get up at some point, so we did. We ate lunch, then cuddled. We made a cheesecake, then cuddled and lay in bed together talking. We bathed my guinea pig, Mariska, then played with her on the bed for a while, cuddling with her. She burrowed into her blanket the way I wanted to burrow into Simon's shoulder. We cuddled until it was time to go. My friend Manda dropped by for a few moments, and then we had to leave. My mom and I did a presentation about guinea pigs for a group of campers, and Simon sat patiently and watched, holding Mariska's leash. Then it was time to take him back to the bus station.
The ride was quiet. I was too sad to know what to say. When we got to the station I had so many things to say. To reassure myself that this wasn't the end of it all I babbled about our new room together and what we'd do about a bed and where to put his closet. I had to say something about when we'd next see each other next to be sure we would, that it wasn't all in my head. I get crazy thoughts that this goodbye could be the last so I have to make certain we'll see each other again soon, and set it so well that it won't be cancelled. We won't see each other again until he moves in, in September.
When my mom started to pry us apart I hugged Simon and started to cry. I tried to hold it back but two fat tears slipped down my cheeks and I just about lost it. I looked at him, miserable with tears in my eyes and I could almost see him wanting to cry too. But he didn't. I did. I walked out of the bus station and looked back at him, then left. And I cried most of the way home. I hate being separated from him. About 10 minutes after we left, I texted him, as is tradition. Just that last reminder that I miss him, I love him, and I can't bear to be without him. And I hope he knows just how much he means to me.