We talked last night anyway for two hours. There was a little bit of crying on my part, and a lot of sighs. We recognized the sway between getting the rhythm of long distance and then losing it again. We both agreed that Tuesday's conversation didn't count. I said sorry for all the weekends work takes up, and you told me how you knew I was trying my best. You laughed again at my practical-but-strange suggestions of sharing my Google calendar with you or emailing you memos so you at least know what's going on.
We talked about photoblogging on both our ends and my team for Ultimate league. We talked about baseball. And even though there's still five million things we still hadn't shared with each other, we finally ended the call at 3 am and knew it was going to be okay.
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