When you read this, it will be Saturday morning or later, and Daddy will have been here with me since Friday (the best Valentine’s Day present ever!). But I’m writing this a few days ahead, and I just realized something…
I hold my breath (figuratively, of course) between visits. I’m not waiting for something bad to happen, please don’t misunderstand. But I don’t truly exhale until I see him.
I know that when I walk into the airport Friday night, I’ll look everywhere for him, my eyes scanning the crowd, desperate for a glimpse. I know I’ll run into his arms and throw mine around his neck. I’ll squeal and giggle. We’ll kiss. He’ll do whatever a Dom damn well pleases when he sees his babygirl. (Yay me!)
And then I’ll let out the breath I always forget I’m holding.
How can I be so sure that I’m holding my breath as I’m writing this when his arrival is still a few days out? Because my throat is tight, my stomach hurts, and every muscle in my body is tense to some degree.
But when you read this, I will be loose and flowing. I’ll smile and laugh. Very few “what ifs” and worries will run through my mind. I won’t even think, “Yay my Daddy is here!” Because being at his side is the most natural thing of all – and all I need to do is breathe.