We meet at opposite ends of the day. He messages first thing when he wakes, as I'm crawling into bed and yawning away my day. I blink and half-sigh as my eyes close heavy on his few words. And as I sit down at my desk the morning after, reading the paper and drinking my latte, I send him my good night and love by way of a clumsy email.
Three months apart. Three months of upside-down greetings, missed calls and bad lines. Our smiles are small pixels, crackling just a moment behind our words, a half-the-world away delay on a computer screen.
Three months almost gone and next week he's home to me. For a little while, anyway...
* The image is from the beach house we just rented - a wonderful home full of old Danish furniture, dusty board games and cold salty air.