I knew his job in the military could call him away at any time, but I never expected he would leave without saying goodbye or that he would take a piece of me with him. He said he would always find his way back to me. It’s been two years. I’m still waiting for him. My memories from our two weeks in paradise are as vivid as they were when we created them. The tattoo on my wrist a constant reminder. Today, when I open the door to the waiting room at the clinic and see him sitting there, I feel the pieces of my world coming together. He’s finally here. He found his way back to me. But if that’s the case why does he look like I’m the last person in the world he wants to see? He said I was his home. His true North. So, why is he running away?