I realize that what might feel like forever has, in reality, only been a few days, but I’m not sure I can handle this feeling of loss much longer. It’s raining here in southern California and it’s supposed to continue through the week. My feet are cold, my ankles damp, and my hair is frizzy. I had to stop by The Husband’s apartment to pick up mail and a package that came for me (a package that I, a complete imbecile, picked out with him in mind) and as I make the drive back home, I can’t help but think of what should be. I should be home with my husband. I should be dry and warm. We should have the TV on, a fire going. The cat should be stretched out lazily across my lap. I should be reading a good book while, next to me, The Husband plays online poker and flips from one awful movie to another. We should be happy. We should be together. A friend told me a while ago, “You’re going to miss him. You need to expect that.” But how do you know when missing someone is simply just that… or is something more, something that closely resembles this is a huge mistake?