If you were in the JetBlue Terminal at JFK on Monday, I'm sorry.

I apologize that you had to watch a dark haired girl in glasses have several coughing attacks as she cried into her boyfriend’s coat. I’m really sorry that you had to watch them kiss and hug, as if one of them was going off to war. I’m sorry you had to watch the bearded man push the girl’s hair behind her ear as he told her things that could only be understood between two people so close. I apologize that this girl with a runny nose put her coat and messenger bag and Chucks and iPhone and laptop in the bins in security slowly as her flight began to board. I’m sorry that the man left her a voicemail as she stood in her striped socks waiting to go through the metal detectors, wiping her eyes. I’m really sorry that just before the girl had to go through the metal detectors, she turned from the security guard and ran back to the edge of the barrier where he stood watching her and threw herself into his arms against the fence. I’m sorry that she couldn’t get on the plane without one more embrace, one more kiss, one more whiff of his skin and his shirt, and that he was just as happy to laugh against her hair and kiss her before she finally had to leave.

The girl walked through the metal detectors and put on her shoes as a female security guard checked her bag and laptop. She sniffled and wiped away tears as she stared at the man who was still standing on the other side of the glass, perhaps hoping she would grab her things, take his hand, and go back home with him. The security guard looked from the girl to the man and back to the girl before speaking.

“Someday, I hope someone makes me as happy as you two make each other,” she said, smiling quietly as she handed the girl her bag.

He waved and she blew a kiss before turning, racing to her gate. She was the last one to board the flight and everyone stared as she scurried red-eyed to her seat. She coughed during takeoff and the women around her took care of the crying girl out of tissues. They gave her a bottle of water and Emergen-C and cough drops and let her borrow a neck pillow. The lady next to her, who looked to be the same age as the girl’s mother, stroked her hair and arm as she let the girl ramble in her hoarse voice until she drifted to sleep, cheek against the loaned neck pillow.

The girl landed at home and into her family’s arms before crashing feverishly into her bed. She dreamed of the days past and the ones to come, her mind creating accurate images of the future, simple, beautiful moments close to what will happen soon but without the life and breath of reality. The simple romance of being in each other’s company, watching movies, walking hand in hand, her feet in his lap as they eat cheeseburgers in a restaurant, waking up with legs intertwined, brushing their teeth together in the shower, writing in bed on their respective laptops, reading each other’s work and critiquing it honestly, watching ideas grow as they discuss every day things and issues, laughing at inside jokes and clever references, enjoying each other’s bodies on a lazy afternoon, kissing over her shoulder as they attempt to cook together. All of these simple, effortless actions made more familiar and concrete the more they are repeated.

It’s why it’s hard to leave every time. Even knowing you’ll be back soon, it is difficult to leave someone who fits so well. He is the answer to so many of the questions that have kept you awake at night for years, and the ones he can’t answer, you now have faith you’ll figure out in time. When you have to leave someone you love, someone who makes you feel so entirely and extra complete, it’s as if all the emotional and metaphysical connection becomes all too visceral and you suddenly have to pull yourselves apart from where you were linked, gut to gut. You bleed into your own hands and know that it’s temporary, that the connection that grew from afar will grow in place again before the next time you see each other but it’s hard to think of anything besides the distance for the moment.

You think of how you seem to speak to each other without any words when you’re together, your skin reading the Braille of his skin and knowing exactly how you are meant to feel at that moment. Comfortable, whole, at peace. The weeks apart crawl and fly at the same time, the adrenaline and love from the last time alive in the in between days, forcing you to live your life better and more fully than you did before you knew the universe meant you for this person. You have more and thus you give more, you create more because now you are more than just the boundaries of your own body; you see yourself reflected in someone else and you can see why you are loved and cherished like that. The bonds grow again as you realize that distance is rarely measured in miles when you love someone. The day you no longer have to be apart for weeks at a time seems a remote but spectacular gift that will soothe the calluses created by time wearing at your souls.

For now, I’m finding that every goodbye is just the beginning of another climb to the joy of that next glimpse, touch, kiss behind the ear, embrace that is coming sooner than you expect. It kind of feels like a story that I’m writing just by being and living; sometimes it feels like magic.