The question is asked, "So how're you doing without Kam?"
It seems the answer would be obvious, but maybe it's not.
I only met Kam two years ago.
It seems such a short time and a long time.
The point is, I lived the vast majority of my life pre-Kameron, and I was just fine, so I'm fine now.
People told me the first little while would be the hardest. If that's true, these next two years are going to be a breeze.
I cried in the shower the day he left for the MTC, I let the water mask my tears (although my puffy eyes weren't quite as inconspicuous). I made my way to his house on a perfectly blustery day, and as I walked I felt my quiet composition begin to unravel a bit. Three deeps breaths of the cool, crisp air and my tremors would subside.
Two tearless, carefree hours I spent with his family and Jose. It couldn't have been a more beautiful day, my favorite kind of day. He was happy, I was happy, and together we were calm. They drove me home, he shook my hand, and that was all.
The rest of this week has been slow, but fast. I've been fine, I've been happy, I'm glad.
Today is Sunday, our day, and I feel my subconscious waiting for him.
To call, to knock, to whisper hello.
But I remember.