absence

Clare: It's hard being left behind. I wait for Henry, not knowing where he is, wondering if he's okay. It's hard to be the one that stays.
I keep myself busy. Time goes faster that way.
I go to sleep alone, and wake up alone. I talk walks. I work until I'm tired. I watch the wind play with the trash that's been under the snow all winter. Everything seems simple until you think about it. Why is love intensified by absence?
Long ago, men went to sea, and women waited for them, standing on the edge of the water, scanning the horizon for the tiny ship. Now I wait for Henry. He vanishes unwillingly, without warning. I wait for him. Each moment that I wait feels like a year, an eternity. Each moments is as slow and transparent as glass. Through each moment I can see infinite moments lined up, waiting. Why has he gone where I cannot follow?

Henry: Is there a logic, a rule to all this coming and going, all this disloaction? Is there a way to stay put, to embrace the present with every cell?


-The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger