Mac left yesterday morning and I am still bruised and aching from the brutal way I begged to be used. I don't feel like writing about it today, which probably means I shouldn't. I think I am still processing it myself and I am not ready to share.

After He left I put on the shirt He had worn the day before and kind of shifted around the place trying to get comfortable without Him. At lunchtime I was sitting here at the window thinking about some of the things W/we will need in the new house when I saw a car pull up and a delivery lady stepped out with a bouquet of flowers. I started thinking about how exciting it is to get surprises like that and wishing that someone would send me flowers (although I am not a very flowery person) when I heard the knock at the door. I flew to it, still in just Mac's shirt, positive that there was some mistake and I was wrong. It was for me!

It wasn't flowers as such, but a pot plant that Emma had sent me so that I wouldn't be here alone. She thought I needed something to talk to. I wondered if she was implying that the plant had the same listening skills and was able to converse as well as Mac does on the deep and meaningful ponderings I have. Then I saw her point.

She also said it is good practice. If I can keep a plant alive then I can handle a garden. Scarily enough, Emma knows that I am a dismal failure when it comes to plants. In fact I don't ever have plants here anymore because it irks me that I cannot keep one alive.

It's not that I don't care about them. I read the instructions carefully, I put the plant in the right light, and I am careful with the watering and keep a guide of when it should be fed. Then I watch the plant slowly die, fretting over each leaf as it wilts and falls off. I hang on to the plants till there is nothing but blackened stalks left and then Mac makes me give up on them and throw them out. I told my mother just the other day that while she is blessed with a green thumb (she can take a leaf and somehow end up with a full and luscious plant) I was obviously given a black thumb. Mum said there must be something that I am just not getting right. Mac said that anything that had to listen to Sarah's deep and meaningful ponderings would feel the will to live ebb away. Then He said ouch. I will let you all imagine why.

I miss Him. It's almost like a part of me is on hold, waiting for Him to come home before it is taken off pause. It's not that I am not happy, because I am. And it's not that I am lonely, because I am not. It's just in those quiet moments that I start to look for signs of Him and I realise without Him I am not whole.

It's the little things I miss most, like the way His breath tickles my ear when W/we hug, and the little touches as W/we pass each other in the hall. I miss His arm over me when I sleep, and His laughter at the dinner table when I eat. I miss His toothbrush next to mine, and His shaving kit on the shelf. I miss that tiny little niggle I get in my tummy when I glance up from my book to find Him watching me. I miss the dominance He fills every room with, even when it is just the two of U/us. I miss His contentment.

I know that in just another one or two short days He will be back here and things will even out and I will be allowed to submit to Him again. I know that when He returns it will be just as much fun and even more full of love and somehow I will belong to Him more. I know I whine a lot while He is away, but He should stop being away so much after this trip and I promise that Mac's Sarah will be back again the moment Mac walks through the door.

So, can I have Him back now?

Please?