The phone rings, and every time I’m hoping it’s him. The phone rings, and I rush to answer so I could hear his voice for just a few minutes. The phone rings, and it’s hard. It’s hard as hell, but it’s also the highlight of my day.

For those 15 minutes, it feels like things are better. For those 15 minutes, it’s like things are back to normal. I forget that he’s so far away, and I feel so complete and happy… until the “one-minute lady” comes on and I’m hurting to say goodbye.

When that electronic voice tells us we have 60 seconds left, then suddenly I remember the situation we’re in. My stomach sinks, and I never fail to get upset. Then the call ends, and I get swept with a hard feeling of sadness. I replay every word said over and over again in my head. I can’t help but wonder if he’s as sad about it as I am, or even sadder. And then there I am, sitting there hoping he’ll call again.

I’ve gotten a lot of judgment through this. “Why would you wait for him? You’re wasting your time. He’s bad news.” I’ve learned not to care what other people think. I’ve learned to blur the lines between his flaws and his perfections. I don’t expect anyone to understand this journey we’re on because they’ve never been through it. But I just want you all to know that even from in there, he treats me like a princess.

The most important thing I’ve learned during this time apart is patience. This whole thing is just a big waiting game –waiting for the mail, waiting for visitation day, waiting for calls, waiting for sentencing, and most importantly, waiting for him to come home. I’m far from a patient person, but you have to do what you have to do for the people you care about. He’s worth it.

I’ve been missing him for a while now, and I’ll still be missing him for a long time. I miss him in too many ways. This has just become another part of me. I wake up, stretch, breathe, and miss him. Days feel like years when I’m apart from him, but I know the distance can’t break us.

I know it’s hard for him in there. He’s the one that’s trapped, and I essentially have all of the freedom in the world. Not necessarily, though. From the outside, in, it’s just as difficult. I don’t want to have to sit and wait for phone calls. I don’t want to sit and wait for the mailman to bring me letters. I want to be in his arms, hold his hand, feel his breath, and hear his heart. I just want to be with him. Missing him comes in waves, but for some reason, tonight I feel like I’m drowning.