Why We Are Waiting to Be Together

“Absence is to love what wind is to fire; it extinguishes the small, it inflames the great.”
— Roger de Bussy-Rabutin

Sometimes, it feels like my partner and I are suspended in time. So deeply intertwined in soul, yet not in body. Not yet.

It’s the paradox of long-distance love.

That strange in-between where we are already each other’s, but not just yet.
Not fully. Not in the way we dream about.

I used to think love was about being together all the time. About doing the daily things together—waking up next to someone, cooking dinners, coming home to them, holding hands in silence. But I’m slowly beginning to see another kind of love.
A love that prepares.
A love that waits and not because it’s unsure, but because it’s so sure it’s willing to take its time.

We’re in our building years. We talk about that often. About how we are both crafting a life—one that will one day hold us both, fully.

We’re working on our careers, healing old wounds, building something of our own in this digital space we now call our digital home.
Some nights, we’re overwhelmed. Some nights we’re on video calls at 1 AM, tired but still dreaming together.
But all of it—every little choice, and every uncomfortable stretch is for us.

Distance has taught us what nothing else could.
It has taught us patience. Real patience. Especially me, who was known for being impatient.
And not the kind of patience where you wait bitterly, counting down days.
But the kind where you know that this love is worth the wait. That you are worth the wait. That building yourself isn’t a detour, but it is actually the road.

We’ve realized we’re not just passing time, waiting to be together.
We’re growing. Not apart, but alongside.
Like two trees rooted in different soil but growing toward the same sky.

I’ve had to let go of the idea that love has to happen fast. That it should be urgent, immediate, and intense. That if someone loves you, they’ll be here for you right now.
Because that’s not our love.
Our love is slow. Steady. Future-facing.

We’re in a preparation phase.
And I won’t lie—sometimes, it aches.
I wish I could reach out and feel the warmth of his hand instead of the coolness of a phone screen.
But there’s beauty in this, too.
There’s beauty in knowing that we are becoming the kind of people we would want to spend the rest of our lives with.
And there’s something so special in knowing that we are both walking toward the same life.

It’s not about waiting passively.
It’s about moving intentionally.
We’re building, separately but not apart.
We’re growing, so when we do finally come together, we’ll have a life that welcomes us, not one that breaks under the weight of unhealed wounds and unrealized dreams.

We are already each other’s.
Just not yet.
And that’s okay.

— Anushka & Vishnu