I listened to a songwriter sing from Seattle today, and I missed the cool ocean breezes and the wet heavy salt kissed air. I want to sit with you there. I wanted to come home to you and to simply hold you and look at you, and I thought about calling you my wife. That meant so much more to me than the rocky northern coastline or the feel of your warmth. It hit hard and only made my longing that much harder. And I still miss you, just enough to keep you always on my mind, but not enough to kill me. I just miss you.