I love it when you send me postcards. 

It's a small gesture, but to me it means the world. It's like there's traces of me all over the world, be it in your thoughts or the open sea in front of you. It makes me all warm and tingly knowing that despite being thousands of miles away, from one country to another I'm always there. Maybe not in flesh but definitely in soul. I lie in bed at night thinking which country is it this time. Though I may not know where you are I am comforted knowing eventually you'll come back home to me. The smiley on your postcards is enough to make me smile the whole day. Sometimes it's a long heartfelt confession, other times just a simple 

'I miss you'. 

Eloquent.

Some time long ago, I told you how much I love classic hand-written love letters, the effort of holding pen and paper, writing instead of typing, crossing out sentences instead of pressing the backspace button. There's something that feels a lot more sincere and genuine to it. You laughed and I know writing is not your forte. So when I received your first postcard, I couldn't stop glowing the whole day. Then, the mailman keeps on coming every week or so and I'm so surprised you remember.  Even more surprised that you go as far as scribbling little notes and your thoughts for me. It may seemed like nothing to other people, but knowing you, I know this is a big step. Dissecting yourself bare and open, vulnerable. The little things you do for me, for us. And I'm falling in love with you more and more each day, you surprised me more and more each day. The years I've spent thinking I know you, and you always prove me wrong. We're discovering more of each other as each anniversary pass and I want to love every version of you just like how you've loved mine. We argued a lot, sometimes petty misunderstandings lead to petty arguments. Sometimes we fight about who loves the other most. I've always said I love you more than you love me, but a deeper selfish part of me wants you to love me most. And I hope you do.

Today another postcard arrived. This time from Copenhagen. Your hand writing messy, but I've learned to decode your language enough to understand that you're coming home. You're coming back home.

:)