Type. Delete. Type. Delete. That's how this post started so many times. When I tell people I'm married, and my husband doesn't live with me I get this look -- its hard to describe but I'll just say it's rude.
My husband is an Illinois State Trooper. We've been together since college. Back in 2006; in the days when I wanted to be a hot shot STL attorney and he wanted to be a Child Psychiatrist. When we both worked full time, went to school full time and had a date night a week in the library of the University. Dinners included flashcards he would quiz me on for my legal Latin classes and 8 months of LSAT prep. We struggled for so long and waited for so long for the State Police to call. It was hard. The hurdles, and jumps and tests you take to become a Trooper still amazes me. But he passed them all & went to the academy. Six long months of not speaking during the week and only seeing each other Friday and Saturday nights. Graduation day, couldn't of come sooner. There has to be openings in a district to get assigned there. The ISP district I live in rarely has openings. So he picked the closest district he could to me - about an hour and a half away. He immediately put himself on the transfer list to come home - but it is a first come first serve list. He was No. 12 on the list. We found a tiny 1 bedroom apartment for dirt cheap for him in the little town he lives in & I rent a nice west-side 2 bedroom that's about 5 minutes from the Courthouse. He wants to come back to Springfield - and not put all our furniture in storage and force me to drive that hour and a half every day. Its a choice we made together. A sacrifice we both make.
With that I leave you with our reason - because we love each other and after all - it is just an hour and a half. Love is worth it.
Photo above by St. Louis' own Ravetta Photography.