I used to lay awake waiting for Santa, but now I sleep in late on Christmas morning and lay awake waiting for you. I wait for your night shift to end hours into overtime; I wait for your call to tell me if they'll send you home early; I wait for the sound of your key in the lock when you finally come home. And now, I wait anxiously for your text from four provinces away.
I'm waiting for words that tell me that your dinner was everything you hoped it would be. That you spent quality time with your infant son. That your ex or her family didn't say or do anything to make you uncomfortable. That you got to have a few hours as the proud father without playing house with her. That you miss me.
That we aren't going to go through that terrible post-Montreal time again, with your heart full of questions.
And so I lay awake, waiting. Playing back your words in my mind until I can hear your voice. Recalling the sparkle in your eyes as you tell me about the butterflies in your stomach. Recalling the excited way you squeeze my hand.
Hours pass.
And suddenly, there you are, your face lighting up my screen, your words lighting up my heart. All my fears assuaged, until the next time. In these moments, I am fairy tale princess in love. And so I wait. I wait for this uncertain fog to coalesce into our certain future. I wait for the monsters beyond my reach to be slain. I wait for a day without waiting.