I still remember the day I got off the plane. Nearly two years and twelve hours of travel had lead up to this moment.
I spotted you before you saw me.
From a distance, I saw you standing there amongst a small crowd. Your famous grey hat, my favorite shirt, your adorably awkward gait.
I was seeing it all for the first and millionth time.
I ran off the escalator and into your arms.
There you were, perfectly huggable and intimately real. You weren't just pixels anymore. I could feel your living, breathing self laughing and holding on tight just like I was.
We swatted each others' forearms playfully to make sure we weren't dreaming. We had yearned for this for so long. Years. I spent every second wishing I could hold you.
And here I was, doing just that.
I couldn't believe I had made it to you. There was a time you didn't believe I'd try.
But I did.
I made it to you, my love, and I long for the day I can do it again.
Happy anniversary, Coughdrop.
