Strange Love Apart

For one month and a half, Indi, my girlfriend, and I, will be separated by a handful of national borders, the towering Alps, and most crucially, our exams. She has found a place to live, luckily, in the lovely Venetian neighbourhood of Dorsoduro, while I remain at home in Belgium. It is not the first time apart, as Christmas days and other shorter periods throughout the year she might have been abroad when I was not, but this is by far the longest time alone since we met.

In the two decades my parents raised my sister and me, the longest periods they had to miss each other never exceeded three weeks. Now we are forced through double that, and unusual developments have taken place. 

To begin with, we decided that we hated phones, as, even though they seem to speak like us, at least in script, they can’t be hugged, nor convey emotions through minute facial movements, or bring the other a box of strawberries, prepare a stack of pancakes or propose to open a bottle of red wine with dinner. In consequence, we try to limit the amount of texting and chatting, to avoid our partner turning into a brick of aluminium and glass. Instead, every couple of hours, we call. Sometimes just to check up on how the other is doing, or to tell about the boring things that happened today, and find interesting topics in those conversations and string them into an hour of content talking. 

If the situation allows it, we call with video, and then she shows me around Venice, where she passes by markets overflowing with fresh produce or shimmering fish on the way to the library. Her reflection in the canals or the windows of the shops she passes with every step. I only have my cats to offer in exchange, or perhaps my dishevelled hair and unshaven face. 

And then last night we both couldn’t sleep. Past midnight we stayed chatting, strongly missing each other, wishing upon the powers of the universe to bring us together then, at that exact instant. But unfortunately, however strong we desired to, the laws of time and space stayed in place and instead we could only repeat our devotions of love and affection. Both of us grew tired, but neither wanted to end the chat.

So she called me, some time past one. We softly whispered into the phone, careful not to wake anyone else in our houses. And with our breathing transported on rays of radiation across Europe, we could finally fall asleep in peace. 

We called for three hours, until the battery in my phone ran out. Apparently the Japanese do the same. Strong recommendation from me.