(I don’t just write them to places.)
I did a little math recently and figured out that, since we met, my husband and I have spent more time apart than together. I can only advise you to do your best not to fall in love with someone from another country. The complications are infinite.
But when you travel enough it’s bound to happen sooner or later, whether you find yourself in a fleeting romance or a long-term commitment. I don’t think I need to say much about the downsides (what would you miss most during six months apart?), but there is one resounding benefit: love letters. Lots and lots of love letters.
You may begin with the occasional note or postcard, then sometimes you’ll write pages and pages. You’ll get sad, you’ll get angry, you’ll get cheeky. You’ll pray they’re never intercepted. You imagine, you remember, you anticipate. You’ll find words woefully inadequate, and then you’ll get creative. You’ll seal them with a kiss and send them off. You’ll run out when you hear the postman every day to check for more. You’ll get lonely, you’ll get desperate, you’ll get blissfully romantic. And then, sooner or later, you’ll actually get to see one another again.